


Simple Plans

by Secretmonkey



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, a bit of a triangle, faking it more, is Sabrina crazy, is Sabrina lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretmonkey/pseuds/Secretmonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabrina has a simple plan:  pretend to question her sexuality to get close to Amy.  Amy has a simple plan:  don't fall for any more straight girls.  Karma has a... you get the idea.  What happens when one moment wrecks all their plans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fuck.

Just… no… not _just_ fuck.

Too simple.

Fuck a duck. Fuck a _truck_ (like the one that just ran you over.) Fuck in the muck (where you've been getting down and dirty lately) and fuck your luck (can it be bad _and_ good all at once?)

(You think of her lips) (of Amy's lips) (still _on_ yours)

(Yes. Yes, it can)

Fuckking fuckity fuck fuck _fuck._

This, you think, was not the plan. This, you _know_ is not even remotely _close_ to the plan. This is in a different galaxy, a different universe… fuck it… this is in an entirely different space-time continuum from the fucking _plan_.

And you've got no idea what to do about it. And no amount of 'think, Sabrina, think' is going to help and not _just_ because you can't think of anything but Amy's lips and Amy's hands and Amy's...

Fuck.

Did you say that already?

Fuck. (Just in case you didn't.)

The plan (the real one) (the _good_ one) (the one that wouldn't cost you everything and hurt the one person you would never want to) was simple. You'd learned _something_ from all those summer stories Amy told you about Karma's plans, about all her ill-fated preteen schemes.

The best plans, you know, are the simple plans (and no, not the band) (though they weren't _bad_ ) (just not _good_ ) and the simple plans… well…

They don't involve kissing.

If there's one thing you've learned is that kissing isn't simple. Not ever. You've known that since those months before camp, when you kissed your first boy and your mother (old and crotchety and so lost and _old_ ) freaked the _fuck_ out and shipped you off for the summer, right into Bunk 5 and smack into the middle of Karmy.

And if mom could only see you now.

(Old bitch might finally kick)

But that's neither here nor there nor _anywhere_ (except Amy's lips) (which feel like they're fucking _everywhere_ ) (not that you're complaining.) If kissing isn't simple any time, well… it's even _less_ simple when it's kissing another girl (for the first time) and even less simple than that when it's kissing another girl for the first time because you know that your competition for her _and_ Captain Charismaless are both lurking in the bushes.

Kissing is never simple, but it's so much _more_ not simple when you do it for all the wrong reasons, like as a lip-locking middle finger to the greedy bitch and the not-even-worth-a-fuckboy watching from the shrubbery.

And when you do kiss that girl for the first time (when you _are_ kissing that girl for the first time), when you press your lips to hers and expect it to last five, six seconds tops?

(you passed six seconds about a minute ago)

(you think)

(time passes differently here) (slower) (so _much_ slower)

Or when you expect it to be like kissing your sister (if you had one) or when you expect her to barely react?

(but she _does_ ) (kissing you _back_ and kissing you _hard_ and there's… you know.. _tongue_ )

When you expect it'll give you the perfect excuse to stop 'exploring' your sexuality cause, you know, you tried it and it wasn't for you and all that?

(cause yeah, exploring her _mouth_ just fucking _screams_ that it isn't for you)

When you expect all that and instead you find yourself with your hands on her hips and your tongue chasing after hers and a moan in your throat you didn't know you were capable of making?

Yup… that seals it.

 _So_ not the plan.

* * *

The plan really _was_ simple. Simple and painless (except maybe for Karma) (like _that_ was a problem) and, most importantly, it was a victimless crime.

You wanted to get _closer_ to Amy, to be friends somewhere in the neighborhood of her and Karma, to not always be the third wheel (fourth if you count Lauren, but four wheeling is normal, so fuck _that_.) You never ( _never_ ) wanted to hurt her or play games with her heart or lead her on in any way.

You wanted to be _like_ her and Karma, not _be_ her and Karma.

So, maybe your plan involved a tiny… fib ( _lie_ is such a harsh word) (accurate, but _harsh_ ) and maybe it was taking advantage of the one weak spot in the Karmy armor (again, like _that_ was a problem) and maybe it was a little immature and a little ridiculous and a little deceitful and a little desperate.

Wait…

 _Fuck_.

You _are_ Karma.

The simple plan? Tell Amy you were beginning to question. Tell her you had dreams. Tell her your boyfriend is great and you really feel _something_ for him, but you're not sure if that something is what it's _supposed_ to be.

(And now that you think about it, as much as you _can_ think with Amy's lips on yours, you're pretty sure _that_ would've been worlds better than 'I made him up'.)

(You really hope _that_ doesn't come back to haunt you.)

(But really… how could it?)

So… the plan.

(it would be so much easier to focus without Amy's hands creeping up your back and her hair tickling your cheek)

(focusing is highly overrated)

Tell Amy you're questioning and you're not sure and you need someone who's been there and done that and gone on the lesbian summer tour bus to help you through it.

Check and check and _checkmate_ , Karma.

See? Simple. Easy. Harmless. In the end, after you and Amy had bonded so tightly over the one thing she and Karma could _never_ share (cause Karma's straight)

(but then so were you) (until Amy's lips) (and hips) (and tongue)

( _fuck_ … that _tongue)_

(you'd like to)

(shit)

In the _end_ , when the bond between you and Amy was so tight that not even Karma and her naturally curly curls (and thank God she'd found the wonder of straighteners) (no pun intended) could get between you two, then you could suddenly realize.

You were straight after all. You even had a speech, had it all planned out.

"It was touch and go there, for a bit," you'd say. "I had my doubts for a while. I really thought…"

(you didn't _think_ , you realize _now_ and that's like the _entire_ problem)

"I guess all my exploring and talking," you'd say (cause _that's_ what it was supposed to be) ( _talking.)_ "I guess that was all I needed to do. It was just a phase."

(Except that speech was just a draft, a work in progress cause, _really_ , there _had_ to be a better way to put it.) (A _phase_?) ( _Who_ would say _that_?) (So fucking _mean_.) (Shit like _that_ could _scar_ someone.)

And then Amy would hug you and smile at you and be glad she could help you and your bodn would be cemented and she could go back to finding reasons _not_ to date Felix and you could back to your regularly scheduled boyfriending with… with… with…

Fuck.

Um…

Hang on.

It'll come to you.

(probably come faster without Amy's tongue flicking against your teeth)

Roy! That's it. Roy. Good old Roy. Roy, Roy, Roy.

Roy with his hard and pointy hips _and_ his lips like sandpaper _and_ his tongue that always tasted vaguely of cinnamon and not the good and fresh kind. The cheap kind, the kind you buy in little bottles in the grocery store with one of like three hundred different generic brand names

(Roy)

on it and it never tastes quite right and it always makes you sneeze.

Roy.

Yup. Yeah. Sure. That was the plan. Tell Amy you're straight but thanks for the help and then you could go back to Roy and have the best friend _and_ the boyfriend and everything would be right with the world. See? A simple plan. A _good_ plan. A perfectly harmless plan.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Felix fucking Turner. That's what could go wrong.

Felix fucking Turner and his fucking Cyrano behind the tree with her stupid guitar and her stupid sweet song (that he totally couldn't sing) (seriously, is there anything that boy _can_ do besides fucking up perfectly good same sex couples?) (God, it's like he's gonna make a career out of it.)

You saw them but they didn't see you and so you stopped, dead in your tracks, across the street and just watched. You were on your way to see Amy, to talk to her about your latest dream.

(And for _once_ , you'd actually _had_ one) (an actual dream about an actual girl) (and _that's_ what you get for watching _Carol_ right before bed) (cause straight or gay or whatever… it's _Cate_.)

You'd reached the corner across the way and there they were, on the lawn outside Amy's window, both with guitars and Karma with her hands on Felix's collar, straightening it (like he could get anymore _straight_ ) and brushing her hands down his sleeves and tugging on the hem of his shirt and fuck all, was she his friend or his fucking _mother_

(and yeah, you knew enough about Felix to feel bad about thinking _that_ )

"I don't know, Karma," you heard him say. "I mean, really… grand gesture? That's not exactly me."

Of _course_ it wasn't _him_ , it was _her_. The whole thing screamed Karma and reeked of Karma and basically stood up and waved and said 'hi, I'm _Karma_.'

"Trust me," she said. "This is the _perfect_ plan. I told you, all we need to do is get Amy to focus on her _other_ crush and…"

 _And_ you didn't hear the rest cause all _you_ heard was 'other crush' and your brain filled with a thousand questions like did Karma really think Amy was crushing on Felix? And who's this other crush? And if Amy was crushing on Felix why didn't she just do something about it? And who's this other crush? And why does Karma always think she knows better, especially for Amy, _and_ why does she always have to stick her nose in _and_ why do all her plans just seem like recycled rom-com plots?

_And who's this other crush?_

(You weren't sure _then_ why you kept coming back to _that_?)

(You've got a slightly better idea _now_.)

Felix tuned up and Karma hid behind the tree and they were set to go. You didn't know (and neither did they) that Amy wasn't even home, that she'd been called away by Lauren, on emergency 'I think I'm starting to like _Booker_ and that _has_ to _stop_ business, and so he ( _she_ ) ( _they_ ) launched right in and you watched from a distance as the boy-wonder sang (butchered) (slaughtered) (fucking _killed_ and not in the _good_ way) Karma's sweet song, right up until Farrah opened the window and said Amy wasn't there and shooed him away.

But not without promising to call as soon as Amy got home.

You watched as he and Karma packed up to go and you saw Amy walking along, headed home, before _they_ saw Amy, but they saw _you_ and, really, how could they _miss_ you, what with your running across the street calling out Amy's name and waving like an over caffeinated twelve year old.

That, you know _now_ was the point of no return. It wasn't the moment you decided to lie to Amy in the first place, it wasn't the moment you erased what's his name from existence

(Roy)

It wasn't the moment you pinned that stupid 'questioning' button to your shirt at school, it wasn't even the kiss.

It was _that_ moment. When you hustled across the street and saw Karma's face as you did, with that look on it, that 'oh, fuck _no_ , nope, no way, nuh-uh, this is _not_ gonna happen' look, like Amy was _hers_ , like there was that bond and it wasn't just that no one could have a bond like _that_ , it was that no one could have _any_ bond with Amy, not unless it was Karma approved (Felix) or non-threatening (Felix) (again) or one that Karma could convince Amy to cut loose at a moment's notice (yeah, Felix) ( _always_ fucking Felix.)

If you hadn't seen that look, you might have thought twice before you did it. Before you kissed her. Or, maybe, two thoughts or two _hundred_ , it wouldn't have mattered cause she was still _Amy_ and those words

(who's the _other_ crush)

were still rattling round in your head and doing _something_ to you that you couldn't (or _wouldn't_ ) explain (though, come on, suddenly wanting to rip Felix and that other crush's heads off, that had to tell you _something_ ) and maybe that all would've been too fucking much and you would have kissed her anyway, look or not.

But it's so much easier to blame it on Karma.

So, in the end (which is right about the time Amy's lips separate from yours and Amy says… _something_ … something you don't hear cause you _can't_ cause _woah_ … and then races up the walk and into her house and behind the locked _front_ door and the locked _bedroom_ door and the locked _bathroom_ door and you stand there, on the sidewalk, with your heart hammering in your chest and your hands shaking at your sides and all you _can_ hear is the soft rustling in the background as Felix tries to drag Karma away before she does something (else) stupid), you _know_.

It might be easier to blame it on Karma. And if she hadn't been there maybe you would've just gone along with your simple (and harmless) (and painless) (and _simple_ ) plan and no one would have gotten hurt and the worst thing to come out of it would've been that Karma had to learn to share.

It would be easier to think that. Simpler.

But as you look up at Amy's house, at Amy's window, and you swear you see a shadow flick quickly away from the curtains before the light goes out?

You know there's not a single simple thing about it.

Not anymore.


	2. Karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Saw the spoilers. Might not be as heartbroken as some, but still think they're missing the boat (the S.S. Karmy) so, I'm gonna keep going even though this might be close to the show, it's still different so… This one is from Karma's POV.

You're angry.

That's nothing new, though. Sometimes, you don't even remember the last time you weren't at least a little angry. When there wasn't the thinnest, tiniest layer of anger under even your brightest smiles. You know, for a fact, that every 'it's all good' you said last summer was laced with a shot of except.

'It's all good _except_ …'

You could finish the thought. But it would be a _long_ fucking thought.

Sometimes, it feels like angry is the new you, your new default, your new _thing_ , underlying all the other _things_ , always lurking beneath everything you are or might be or could be. If you had a hashtag, it wouldn't be #poorKarma (though, let's be honest, there's been plenty of reason for poor lately.) No, you'd be #angryKarma and you wish they'd had _that_ as one of those stupid buttons at school for you to label yourself with. 'Pan spiritual' and 'LGBTQIA ally' (which was _silly_ cause 'A', _already_ ) and 'Angry.'

(and then, after you saw Sabrina with her 'Questioning' button you could have turned 'A' into 'answer', as in the answer to her question)

(which would have been 'you are not, you lying bitch.')

( _obviously_ )

(obviously… unless you're… you know… _Amy_ )

( _Fuck_ )

And there it is again, that anger. So fucking much of it that you don't know where to put it all and you don't know what to do with it and why the _hell_ did Felix have to hold you back cause if he'd let you go, you're pretty sure _(positive_ ) you would've known _something_ to do with it.

Something right upside Sabrina's manipulative little head.

But he _did_ hold you back and you _didn't_ do anything to her (not that you've stopped imagining it for one single second since) and so now all that anger is just sitting there. It's festering and it's bubbling and it's coming to a boil just beneath your skin and yeah, you've been carrying it for a while.

But it's never been this _heavy._

It's exhausting, it really is. You don't think you've ever been this tired, and every time you think you've hit the end, every time you think you can't get any angrier, there's another layer. There's another something that comes along and beats all the rest, even when you think that's just _not_ possible.

Nothing could top Liam and Amy. And then nothing could top losing your home and everyone moving on but you. But then nothing could top your best friend abandoning you for a summer and not even planning to _tell_ you.

And then came Haunted Hester. And then came game night. And then…

And then and then and then _and fucking then_.

Now, sitting here with _him_ (instead of him sitting with _her_ ) (like it should be)

( _that_ was the _plan_ )

you're sure - _again_ \- that there's nothing more. There's nowhere else this ( _you_ ) can go. There's nothing more than can make this any worse.

You're wrong.

As usual.

"I knew she… but I didn't _know…_ I never thought they'd…"

Felix's voice snaps you out of it (sort of) (not really) (he's _talking_ about _it_ , after all) and you remember that he's still there, sitting on the edge of your bed and _that's_ a sign, isn't it? That he's sitting _right next_ to you, close enough to touch, and you _forgot_ he was there.

You're sure that says something about _him_ (not anything _good_ , you know) but it says _more_ about you, more about where _your_ head is. And _that's_ not anything good either.

_He's_ confused and lost and so obviously hurting. Seeing Amy make out with some random girl at the Halloween party was one thing. Seeing her with Sabrina was something _else._ Catwoman was a costume, a rando, a… what was it Amy called it?

A reboot.

That was all _she_ was, but that's clearly (so _fucking_ clearly and you don't know why the _rest of them_ can't fucking _see it_ ) not all Sabrina is.

(she's a fake) (she's a liar) (she's trying to take what's _yours_ )

(or… _his…_ you meant _his_ )

Sabrina's more than a reboot. She's a _rewind_. She's a trip back to twelve and back to a time when no one had faked it and no one had kissed (and no one had fucked anyone's boyfriend or fled fucking town on the Queer Express.)

"I didn't know they were so… _close_ ," Felix mumbles and you have the urge (it's fleeting) (but it's _there_ ) to slap him because how the hell did he _not_?

It's obvious they're close. It's obvious they have a connection. It's _so fucking_ obvious that Amy cares (because old friends) (and feelings that don't need policing and crush boots) and it's so very very obvious that - if Sabrina was _real_ (but she's _not_ ) - she's someone who wouldn't be so temporary (like Reagan) and not so caught up in her own shit (Reagan, _again_ ) and really not likely to be all judgey about Amy sleeping with guys (guy) (just one) (the _worst_ one, yeah, but still just the one.) She's someone who can be Amy's _friend_ first and give her something more _second_ , give her the one thing you can't.

Oh.

Wait.

You were talking about _him_.

"I feel _so_ stupid," he says.

Yeah. He's still here.

And you _were_ talking ( _thinking_ ) about him, because _of course_ you were. It's like the anger, it's part of how you roll. You're always talking (thinking) about someone _else_. And clearly, Felix is hurting (like you), clearly Felix is sad (like you) and confused ( _not_ like you)

(what is there for you to be confused about?)

and clearly Felix is… _not_ the fucking issue here.

( _That's_ clear as a fucking bell. Just because you won't _look_ or _see_ or _admit_ … that doesn't make it even the tiniest bit less clear.)

"I should have seen it coming," he says. "I thought she was just… I don't know… putting on a brave face when I 'released' her." He makes the air quotes around the word and you have to wonder how well he _really_ knows Amy because 'releasing' her?

You're amazed she didn't release her foot into his nuts.

He's clearly (and you need to stop using that fucking word) lost and has no idea what to make of any of this. Despite enough drama of his own for like three lifetimes, you don't think Felix has ever had to deal with teenage romance or girls or a triangle, especially not being the _wrong_ point of one. He doesn't understand what you were trying to do for him, he doesn't get why waiting around wouldn't have worked, he doesn't know how to process watching Sabrina and Amy…

You can't even say the word.

(kiss) (make out) (suck face) (tongue wrestle) (foreplay) (play tonsil hockey)

(you can't _say_ it) (you can clearly _think_ it)

(you can't really think of anything _else_ )

"I knew she liked her," he says. "Anyone with eyes could see that," he adds and you can't help wondering if he's _always_ been Captain Obvious or is this a new thing. "And I guess I'm not _that_ surprised at how impulsive she is," he says. "She seems the type."

_Amy_? _Impulsive?_ Pshhh. Wherever would he get _that_ idea?

"And I can't really blame her," he says and you resist ( _just_ barely) the urge to say 'duh' because, let's face it, _she's_ not the one to blame here. "I mean, really, I'm sure you and I both get it," he says. "Who _wouldn't_ like Amy?"

Right.

Wait.

_What?_

"What what?" Felix asks cause - apparently - you said that last bit out loud, but you're too busy going over it in your head to answer right away. Because the 'she' - _his_ 'she' - Sabrina… he saw that _she_ liked… and _she_ was impulsive… and it makes sense that _she…_

Wait. (Again.)

_Before_ that.

"You and I _both_?" You turn on the bed, pulling one knee up between you, putting just a bit of distance (keeping him just _out_ of smacking range) (unless you stretch) (and you _might_ ). "It's not... _we're_ not… of course I _understand_ why that fuc… why _Sabrina_ … would want to be Amy's friend." (You wonder, for just a moment, if she uses her tongue like that for _all_ her _friends_.) "Amy is very… _friendly_. But I'm not… I mean, _you_ are… that's why I was _helping you_ … because I _don't…"_

There's look on his face that you've never seen, one you didn't think Felix - the king of bland, the crown prince of meh - could ever have. It says something, something he'd never have the balls to actually _say_. Something like a cross between 'OK, Karma, _whatever_ you say, Karma' and 'yeah, she looked _friendly_ ' and 'that's what _she_ said' and he's _so_ lucky you moved out of smacking range.

"I don't know why you would think… _that_ ," you say, waving your hand in the air dismissively (or like you're having a seizure-ly.) "Amy and I are _friends_ , no matter what you might think."

No matter what he might think. Or Vashti might ask. Or Liam might worry about. Or Amy might hope (though, you guess, _that's_ not an issue _anymore_.) Or what your parents and her mother and Shane and the whole fucking school so readily believed.

"We're not… _I'm_ not…" And there's that anger, again, that frustration and annoyance and aggravation and having to explain this over and over and over and _over again_. "I"m _straight_."

Of course you are. _Of course._ And that's all there is to it and that's all you're going to talk about it tonight (or any _other_ night) (or _day)_ (or _mid-afternoon_ or _early evening_ or _Goddamn winter solstice_ or _end of fucking time_.)

"I'm going to bed," you say. "And so are you." You point at the other side of the bed. "It'll all look better in the morning."

(What's one _more_ lie, right?)

Felix eyes the bed and then you and then the bed again and you can see the virginal gears working on overdrive in his head. "I really don't think that's a good -"

"You're staying," you say, channeling - as best you can - Lauren and that tone she's got, the one that shuts _everyone_ down (even Shane), but even to you it sounds more like a plea than an order.

Lucky for you, Felix treats pleas as if they _are_ orders. "I'll stay," he says, "but I should sleep on the cou -"

" _Bed_ ," you say.

You point again, singling out his side (your usual side) (the one you'd sleep on if she - _your_ she - was here) (because you're going to sleep on _her_ side and no, you're not going to think about _that_ or what it might _mean_ or any other hidden subconscious 'maybe it's time to start looking at those feelings' feelings cause you've had just about enough of _that_ for one night.)

"You'll _sleep_ there," you say, still pointing. "I'll _sleep_ here. We're not going to _do_ anything," you say and a part of you (such a _small_ part) regrets the tone, the way it sounds like doing anything with him is the farthest thing from your mind, something that repulses you and there couldn't possibly be anything more _opposite_ of what you want.

You don't mean it _that_ way.

(the _fuck_ you don't)

But you really can't imagine any circumstances under which you would ever even consider _sleeping_ with Felix. That would be like Shane sleeping with Lauren or Farrah sleeping with someone adult and responsible or Amy sleeping with Liam.

Oh.

_Oh_.

You grab the pillow from your bed (from _his_ side) and shove it into his arms and push him through the door and down the hall. "Couch," you say. "You're right," you say. "Much better idea," you say before turning on your heel and darting back down the hall and behind the safety of your (closed) (and locked) bedroom door.

You sleep on her side and you don't try and not think of it as _her_ side and thinking of it like that is the only thing that even half helps you get to sleep, the only thing that you can cling to and hold fast to and remind yourself that yes, they _kissed_ and yes, they might be _crushing_ (no) (not _they_ ) ( _her_ ) (the not a liar one) but no, they will never have a bond like this and _she_ (the lying one) will never have a side of the bed and you don't know _how_ , exactly, but you do know that you _will_ make absofuckinglutely sure of _that_.

No one hurts Amy.

And even if you have to break Amy's heart to do it, you'll make sure Sabrina never gets the chance.

All you need is a plan...


	3. Amy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens between Amy and Sabrina's first kiss and their second. With 100% more Cooperfeld sister action and attempted truth telling.

"I thought you learned your lesson."

Lauren's voice is loud (it's _always_ loud) (you've just gotten used to it) (and to _her_ ) (which is lucky for you, right about now) and you pull the pillow down hard over your head to muffle her and hope that she might think you're still sleeping.

Not that you did any of _that_ , last night. Sleeping.

You showed up on her doorstep with a stolen from Bruce's left behinds six pack (half gone by the time you knocked on Lauren's door) (it was a long walk) and lips you could swear were still swollen from kisses (it had only been _one_ ) (really) (one _long_ one and three beers in you kinda lost the whole counting thing) and a headful of confusion (even without the beer) and a heartful of panic.

All that meant - at best - two hours of fitful tossing and turning and dreaming (and no, you're _not_ going to think about _those_ dreams, not even a little) and not much actual _sleep_.

"You told me," Lauren says and you swear she's just getting louder. " _You_ told _me_ that you learned your lesson."

You lift the pillow up off your face. Not much. Just enough. Just enough to shoot Lauren your best 'fuck you' eyes. Except you can hardly open them, so it's more 'fuc…' eyes and Lauren either doesn't notice or, more likely, deems it as something less than your best effort.

She's not wrong.

But that's as much as she's getting cause it's as much as you can manage, what with the lack of sleep and your mind awash with the remnants of that six pack (and that was still six too _few_ , in your opinion though your head and your stomach might disagree) ( _and_ your heart) (can't forget that)

(no matter how much you'd like to)

and so she's lucky she's getting even that much effort, that you're even bothering to look up at her and not just burying your head further into her guest bed, that you're not pulling the duvet up under your chin and tugging the pillow down over your head till you can't see her _or_ the light _or_ whatever's past the light

(you know, the outside world) (the one with people) (one in particular)

and when she drops down on the mattress and it shifts beneath you like a wave, you groan and pull the pillow back down, burying yourself in the softness as you try and ride out the tides under you.

"You said," Lauren says (yells) (not really) (but even quiet Lauren is loud and she's _not_ quiet right now cause she's making a _point_ ) "and I quote -"

" _I_ know what _I_ said," you snap even if the duvet and the pillow and the cottonmouth take away most of the actual bite and it comes out more as a mumble than anything else. "Falling for your straight best friend… rite of passage… queer girl's natural evolution… yadda yadda…"

Lauren rolls onto her side next to you and the mattress shifts again and you can feel it, every rise and sink and roll caressing your skin with it's perfect little memory foam fingers

(and if they could only erase the feeling of… other fingers and hands and lips… and _fuck_ … you smush down the urge to puke cause _that's_ a one way ticket to never being invited back, sisters or not)

and she talks again, a little quieter this time (or maybe the pillow's just doing a better job.) "I was going to say that _you_ said… and I do _quote_ … 'Never again. I'm never falling for a straight girl and I'm never falling for my best friend. Never. Never never never." She tugs up the corner of the pillow and smirks down at you in the darkness beneath. "You were very specific about the _never_."

She's right. You _were_. And you _meant_ it but it's not your fault that 'never' arrived in a gorgeous brunette package just as dorky as you and all questioning and confused (and then _not_ confused) (and then _still_ not confused cause kissing you and can't kiss if confused, right?)

(fuck)

and it's _certainly_ not your fault that that 'never' package kissed you (though you may shoulder some responsibility for kissing _back_ ) (but let's not digress), so - if anything - the only thing that _is_ your fault is just being _too_ bomb a tour guide and really, you can't help it if you've got better gay guru skills than Shane could ever hope to have.

Right.

That's it.

Everything else? All the feelings and the sorta feelings and the thinking about feelings and the thinking about thinking about feelings… totally not on you.

(fuck)

( _again_ )

You snatch the pillow out of Lauren's hand and smother yourself into the duvet, letting out a hoarse and watery and exhausted scream.

"Feel better?" she asks and you shake your head, rocking the pillow back and forth, a marshmallow in an earthquake.

"Fuck _that_ ," you mutter into the fabric.

You _said_ all that, you said every word and yeah, you did _mean_ it, but you didn't think you _had_ to because let's be real, you only had _one_ best friend and you'd already done the fall in love with a straight girl _and_ best friend bit with _her_ (two birds, one redheaded stone of fucking pain) and you'd managed to make it through, to come out the other side, to fall _out_ of love with her (mostly) (kinda) (enough to ignore it and move on and make out with catwomen and sorta make plans to date Felix - like it would ever _really_ happen - and that was _enough_ for the moment) and so you could _say_ it and say that you _meant_ it all you wanted cause it wasn't happening _again_.

Except… well..

Fuck _that_ too, apparently.

You really did think you'd learned your lesson with Karma. But then the universe (and see? You were right) (such a bunch of _dicks_ ) just had to drop Sabrina back into your lap (not _literally_ ) ( _unfortunately_ ) and yeah, maybe she wasn't your _best_ friend (years living apart and all that) but she was _close_ and, as Nana always said, when it came to horseshoes, hand grenades, and love?

Close totally fucking counts.

(and yes, Nana said _fucking_ ) (where do you think you got _your_ potty mouth from?)

Lauren leans back on the bed and puts a hand on your shoulder (but her grip's a bit too tight and you can't help wondering why her comforting gestures always feel one step away from attempted murder.) "You tried," she says. "I know that you did. This wasn't like Karma," she says. "You didn't willingly dive down _this_ rabbit hole."

You nod, and grunt a "Yeah", hoping that one or both look or sound more convincing to her than they do to you.

You didn't willingly dive.

But, really… didn't you though?

How did you fall for Sabrina? Let's count the ways (as best as your hungover and exhausted and trying not to think about the kiss mind can.)

You sat with her at the coffee shop, relegating Karma to the third wheel seat. OK, so _that_ happened but come on, that was only _fair_. You'd played front wheel of the tricycle for Karma and Liam plenty of times.

(that sounded so much _less_ dirty in your head)

( _no,_ it really _didn't_ )

You took her side at game night. But, come on (again)... Karma was _totally_ cheating (even if she didn't mean to) (which makes _complete_ sense) (cause screwing up and not meaning to is so _not_ Karma, right?) _and_ she was being all weird and defensive and possessive and sometimes you just can't help wanting to needle her. Just a little.

And maybe… _maybe…_ you spent a little too much time with Sabrina at school. And maybe… _maybe_ … you were just a little _too_ excited to see her and show her around introduce her to everyone (like Felix) (especially Felix) (and yeah… maybe the universe isn't the _only_ bunch of dicks.) And maybe you could have been a little _more_ 'hey mom, it's my friend from camp' and a little _less_ 'hey mom, it's my future wife' when you introduced her to Farrah, but you were…

Excited.

_That's_ not a crime.

It's stupid… so _fucking_ stupid (and it's all _so_ diving headlong into the rabbit hole and you know it) … but it's not a _crime_.

(It should be.) (They should so take you to jail.) (Lock you up and throw away the key and protect you from yourself and your hormones and the parts of you that think when your brain doesn't.) (Like your _heart_.)

(That's _totally_ the part you meant.)

(Unfortunately, it really is.)

Lauren squeezes your shoulder gently (and, surprisingly, doesn't take the opportunity to try and steer you out of the bed and down the hall and out the door.) "You said _Sabrina_ kissed _you_ , right?" she asks, not even waiting for you to respond before rolling right on. "So, she must have felt _something_ ," she says. "It's not like girls just go around kissing other girls if they're not at least a little into them. I mean, who would do…"

She trails off and for once, Lauren isn't _not_ saying the name because she _hates_ the name (and the girl it belongs to) but it's too late and even if she hadn't _said_ it, you were already _thinking_ it.

You were already floating through the deep end of _that_ metaphorical (and _literal_ ) fucking pool.

"Sorry," Lauren says. "I didn't mean… I didn't _think._ " She squeezes your shoulder again and there's a pause and you can practically _hear_ her mind whirring along, trying to find the right thing to say. She finally settles on "Sabrina's n _ot_ Karma, you know. And this isn't you two all over again, hell, it didn't even start with anyone faking anything."

She's got a point.

_And_ she's got a _moment_ , the kind you've missed since she left, one where she's being all supportive (and if anyone had ever described _this_ moment to you, you'd have thought they were nuts) (the kind in the head) ( _not_ the kind that can kill you)

(though they're not all _that_ different…)

and it's a different kind of support, one you're not used to. Karma's support comes - so very often - in ways that make your heart _hurt_ , even if she doesn't mean it. Shane's support is always couched in some gay Yoda bullshit and his insatiable desire for gossip. Lauren's support… well…

Lauren support tends to come in the way of food (wedding cake) (to be specific) or angry revenge plans ( _It's Hump Day!_ ) or saving _you_ from angry revenge plans (and then reading your journal anyway) but this is a kinder and gentler Lauren and it's different and kinda weird and you're not sure what to make of -

"But _whatever_ ," she says, and then the squeeze _does_ turn into a shove. "Liam's going to be back in a few minutes and you need to look sorta… well… whatever passes for presentable with you _and_ you still have to figure out how _I_ can figure out if I'm actually starting to have… you know…"

"Feelings," you mumble into the duvet.

"Yes," she says. " _Those_." She pushes a little harder and your body starts to move (she's _deceptively_ strong), but your face stays planted, the fabric of the duvet bunching against your cheeks and your nose. "And then," Lauren says, "we can call Shane and the three of us can figure your shit out."

You raise your head up, the pillow slipping down onto the back of it, covering your shoulders like some sort of fluffy shawl. "Shane? _You're_ going to call _Shane_?" You blink at her. "Fuck, this Liam-crush must be worse than I -"

The words die in your throat as Lauren shoves (again) - and nothing _deceptive_ about it at all - and you slip off the bed and bang your knee on the floor as she smirks.

"Well, he and I are _destined_ to be best friends," she says. "The non making out in the street or anywhere else kind." You glare at her over the edge of the bed, but there's a look - something almost… _caring_ \- behind her smirk and you can't help but laugh. "Hurry up," she says. "I think there's still some doughnuts in the kitchen, but only if you get to them before Liam - "

You're over the bed and out the door and into the kitchen before she can finish the thought and for the next four doughnuts (the ones you eat there) (and then the two more she packs in a little brown paper bag for you) all is right with the world.

It won't last, but _that_ , you've discovered, is what sisters are for.

* * *

She's waiting for you when you get home and you're not really surprised.

OK, maybe you're a _little_ surprised. Mostly by the _she_ in question cause when Farrah said you had company in the living room, you assumed Karma.

And yeah. Not _her_.

Sabrina practically jumps from the chair when you walk in and she starts towards you and then stops and then starts again and then stops and - if that wasn't the _exact_ same thing your _heart_ was doing - it might be cute.

"Hey," she says. "Your mom said you'd called and said you were on your way home, so I could… um… I thought maybe we could…"

Her hands are twitching at her sides as she talks and the words fizzle and about a thousand and one ways to end that sentence run through your mind.

_maybe we could talk_

_maybe we could kiss again_

_maybe we could kiss again again… and then again_

_maybe we could forget it ever happened and never speak of it again cause I told you about my slugger and she's still not a switch hitter and I don't even really know what that means cause I never watched baseball or softball or, you know, any kind of ball_

Maybe _you_ could do something other than standing there staring at her and hoping you don't still have powdered sugar on your lips.

Not that she's looking at your lips.

Is she?

No.

Well... _maybe_. It's hard to tell cause _you're_ looking at _hers_ and not at her _eyes_ and you really need to stop staring before this gets really fucking awkward -

"I really want to kiss you right now."

Too late.

"What?" you say, finally dragging your eyes up to hers, sure that you didn't hear her right and that she couldn't possibly have just said _that_ cause whatever it was that happened last night was _so_ obviously a glitch, a hiccup, a momentary loss of -

"I said I really want to kiss you right now."

OK. Maybe not so _momentary_.

"You do?"

She smiles and ducks her head (and it's only the most adorable-slash-sexy-slash-you are so _fucked_ thing you've ever seen.) "Is that so hard to believe?"

Truth or lie or fuck it all and kiss _her_?

"I'm not quite sure what to believe with you," you say (choosing truth) (and the _whole_ truth) (for once) (it can't backfire any worse than your usual MO, right?) "Yesterday morning you were questioning, then yesterday afternoon you were straight as a Lauren label and then there was last night…" You lean against the back of the chair and run a hand through your hair. "Guess I'm just getting a little whiplash."

You smile as you say it - as best you can - trying ( _hoping_ ) to make her understand that you're not _mad_ because you're not. Confused and terrified and worried and confused and desperately wanting to feel her lips on yours again and _confused_ , yes. Mad? Not so much.

"Yeah," she says. "I get that. It's kinda the same thing for me."

One thing you've learned over the last year or so? The word 'kinda' is a fucking bomb with a perpetually lit fuse.

"I meant it," Sabrina says and then it's like she's reading your mind (which _it_?) "All of the 'its'," she says. "The questioning and then the slugger and then... "

"The kiss," you say (and then you remember that your _mother_ is here, still, but you don't dare turn to look for her because that might break the spell.)

Sabrina nods. "Definitely the kiss," she says. She takes one halting step forward and pauses again, her hands clutched in front of her. "And I _do_ want to kiss you right now. More than… well… more than I… but there's something I have to tell you first. Something you need to know."

If 'kinda' is a bomb? 'Something I have to tell you' is a fucking _nuke_ and not a little suitcase nuke or a dirty bomb or whatever. It's a full on missile, barrelling down at you from thirty-five thousand feet.

"It's OK," you say (and it's _not_ ) (but you're not coming out of this in one piece no matter what, better to limit the damage.) "I know."

She takes a step (nothing halting about _that_ one) back and the color drains from her face and if you could still look in them, you'd see tears in her eyes. "You know?"

You nod. "Yeah, I mean, I _get it_." You step around the chair and settle down into it, your legs suddenly feeling like they weigh about a thousand pounds. "It was the speech," you say. "My little labels are for douches ramble. Right?"

Sabrina moves ( _again_ ), a step closer. "Your speech?"

At the rate you two are going, this is going to be the longest 'I was inspired by your speech and it got me all hyped and I just let that go to my head and got so caught up that I kissed you and I liked it, but I'm _not_ gay' conversation ever.

"You got caught up in the moment," you say. "And yes, you liked _kissing_ me, but a kiss can be… hot…"

( _was it hot? yeah_ )

(no) (not going _there_ )

"And not mean anything more than that," you say. "It's OK. I get it. I know you're not a lesbian or bi or whatev -"

" _I_ don't know what I am," Sabrina says, cutting you off. "And yeah, I got caught up in your speech and the moment. And _yeah_ , the kiss was hot. _Really really_ hot."

(you blush) (just a little)

And then she comes to you, kneeling down in front of you (and _that_ visual turns you so red you're not sure there's blood left anywhere in your body but your face) and you have to shut your eyes.

" _That_ isn't what I needed to tell you, but you need to know, Amy," she says, her hands covering yours (and the fuse on that bomb burns lower and lower.) "That kiss meant _something_. It meant…" She shakes her head and you wait for the explosion, for the detonation that will blow what's left of your heart away. "I never expected… and then I kissed you and it was like… how had I _missed_ it all that time, how had I never just… _seen_ it."

Last time someone said something like that… it was _you_.

And you know how _that_ ended.

"I don't know _what_ it meant," Sabrina says. She reaches and her hand cups your cheek and you're pretty sure you're not breathing (the bomb, in your experience, sucks the air out of the room and out of your chest and your lungs, so you're just getting _ready_.) "But I _do_ know that I want to figure it out. With _you_."

You force yourself to open your eyes and look at her.

_you said you learned your lesson_

You did. You did say _that_.

Know what else you said?

_Fuck that_.

"I've been told I'm a pretty bomb tour guide," you say, letting your hand settle over hers, against your cheek. "But I think I'd rather be a travelling _partner_ if that's cool with -"

She cuts you off, again, but it's lips and not words and it's hands and not stammering speeches and it's her in your arms and you in hers and it's like four more doughnuts and a slip and slide right down the rabbit hole and you still don't know what she had to tell you, but right then?

You don't care.

That's another bomb for another day and if it comes with kisses (and _feelings_ ) like this?

Bring it on. You can take it.

You can take _anything_.


	4. Then and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This jumps back and forth between Amy and Sabrina, the day before and the night of the Ho-Ho-Holiday party (the one in the promo for this week).

**NOW**

Four days. That's all you got.

It's less than you thought, certainly less than you _hoped_ , but in some ways… well, it's just about _right_. It came in a rush, it's only fitting that it end in one too.

With Reagan, you got a couple of weeks. Time enough for bowling dates and sneaking into a DJ gig or two and an _Orphan Black_ marathon at her apartment (that only _half_ turned into a making out marathon.) Two weeks was long enough to meet her friends and to find out (much to _your_ surprise) that you _could_ have a life outside of Karma and outside of Hester and outside of the bubble you'd hid yourself away in.

It didn't last and you know all the reasons why. It fractured and it cracked, but it was a slow break and you _used_ to think that made it worse (you know better _now_ ) and that - for the most part - was _your_ fault. You were never honest, not _entirely_ (and half a truth is still _all_ a lie), not with either of them. You kept Reagan away from Karma and kept Karma a secret from Reagan and yeah, you owned up (eventually) (when you didn't have _any_ other choice) and yeah, you took Reagan's side, at first, and made Karma butt the hell out.

But you knew then and you know now. It was too little, too late. The damage had already been done.

You do have to give Reagan credit though, she _tried_ , she never said it, not in _those_ words at least. Yes, she complained about Karma (and _yes,_ you know _anyone_ you _ever_ date is likely to complain about Karma) (or her about them) (or _both_ ) ( _probably_ both) but it was _never_ about the lie and always about something else. Karma took up too much of your time, she was always there (even when she wasn't), she was a walking talking breathing one hour TV drama and, really, what nineteen year old out on her own and making her way in the world wants _that_ kind of headache hanging around?

Reagan _did_ say _that_ (most of it, anyway) but she _never_ said the other, she never said what you knew was really on her mind. She never mentioned the crack that formed that night at Communal, the one that ate away at the foundation of whatever you two _might_ have been.

She never once said she couldn't trust you (at least not until the end and by then it wasn't about _that_.)

But she never said she _did_ , either.

It ended badly (like there's any _other_ way) but at least with her, you got those weeks. You got some time when she was yours and you were hers and there was something, some little tiny part of your life that was just _that_. _Your_ life. Something you could nurture and grow and make as much (or as little) of as _you_ wanted. It wasn't about your mother's failed marriages or you new insta-stepsister and it wasn't about popularity and being Queen of anything and it wasn't about _her_.

It wasn't about anything except you. _That's_ what those weeks were. Just for you.

It's been months since you broke up and yeah, you know it was for the best and you know that Karma or no Karma, you and Reagan were never going to last. But you still think fondly of her and you still miss her sometimes (late at night) (when it's quiet and there's nothing to distract you and you can't help but remember) but out of it all? _That's_ what you miss the most.

Those weeks. The weeks before the entirety of the rest of the world (and yes, you mean - mostly - _her_ ) came crashing down on you and you weren't strong enough or honest enough or ready enough.

You were so sure the next time would be better, you were so sure you wouldn't make those same mistakes. There would be no secrets (OK, maybe not _no_ secrets) (fewer) (definitely _fewer_ ) and there would be no lies (or half a truths) and - most importantly - there would be no hiding. None. Not on the other side of town or behind apartment walls or in your bedroom late at night when you knew Karma was already asleep and there was no chance she'd come barging through your door.

You'd never really been _in_ the closet and you had no desire to start now.

So, yeah… you were sure this time would be better. You even had a plan, simple as it was. It was really only one step.

Tell Karma.

Tell Karma early and tell Karma often and tell Karma that it was your life and your decision and that just because you might want to spend some (a lot) of time with this new person ( _girl_ ) (it was _always_ a girl in your head) that didn't mean you didn't want to spend time with her too or that she was being squeezed out of your life or that someone was trying to take her place.

(You've never understood how Karma could think _anyone_ would _want_ her place.)

Yes, telling Karma would mean no few weeks. It would mean that special and wonderful time that was just _yours_ would be less _that_ and more yours _and_ hers _and_ this new person (girl) (stop pussy footing around it) (no pun… _yeah,_ pun _intended_.) But that would be OK. Maybe you wouldn't have the time _before_ you told Karma but you'd have all the time _after_ , the time you and Reagan lost because that crack was always there and you never knew how to patch it.

That was your plan. And you were _so_ ready for it. Right up until you weren't.

Right up until you found yourself in between kisses and Sabrina was _right there_ and the words were _right somewhere else_ and the best you could manage was "These last four days have been…"

You _wanted_ to day something cheesy (the word _magical_ lept to mind) (you're such a Ted fucking Mosby) but you didn't want to scare her or pressure her. You didn't want to _be_ the stereotype and drive an emotional U-Haul right up onto the bed between you.

So…

"They've been…"

( _God_ , you sucked.)

"Perfect," she said and you felt a weight slip away (she was as bad as you.)

You tipped your head back so you could look at her. There was this smile on her face and for a moment (like three _seconds_ ) (that felt like three _years_ ) your heart just fucking stopped. You _knew_ that smile. You'd _seen_ that smile.

For two fucking weeks. On your face. Every time you looked at Reagan. It was bashful and unsure and hopeful and terrified and smitten and 'oh God, please say you agree so I don't break right here in front of you'. Looking at Sabrina was like looking in a mirror.

(Except you'd never once had the urge to kiss a mirror.)

(And you _had_ the urge to kiss her.) (All. The. Fucking. Time.)

"I was gonna go with magical," you said. "But perfect works too. A little less David Blaine but…"

She laughed as leaned in to kiss you and when her lips found yours it was… different. Different than Karma (thank _God_ ) or Reagan or… anyone, really. Kissing catwoman (and _fuck_ , did that seem like _years_ ago) was hot and sexy and a little dirty (what with the boob touching and all) but it had never felt like it would matter once you stopped.

And it hadn't.

It had been the same with every girl you'd kissed over the summer - those one the bus and those not - the kisses were good (more than good) ( _necessary_ ) but they'd all been temporary, fleeting, moments you'd look back on fondly, but that was _all_ they were.

They were the start and the end, all in one. Even kissing Reagan was like that, sometimes, cause you knew - right from the start - that there was an expiration date. You pushed it back, you stalled, you delayed the inevitable as long as it could be delayed.

But you knew.

There's a reason they're called _first_ loves. (And yes, you know Reagan wasn't _your_ first _love_ , but she _was_ the first to love you back - like _that_ \- and that fucking _counts_.)

Sabrina wasn't _that_. She was a start but (you _thought_ ) not an end. She wasn't a hookup or a reboot or summer escape or the way to fill a (Karma shaped) hole in your heart. You didn't know what she was, not exactly, but you knew it wasn't any of that, and for the first time in a long time you were aching to find out _exactly_ what she was.

Which is why you knew you _had_ to tell Karma, because that was the only way those four days might have had a chance, a shot at being something more. Four _weeks_ or four _months_ or four _years_ or four china patterns to pick from or four venues to choose between or four cakes to taste (all nut free, of course) and yeah, you knew (and _know_ ) that your heart tends to get a little ahead of itself sometimes.

Karma's not the _only_ hopeless romantic.

You _had_ to tell her,you _know_ that. And you (and by 'you', you meant you _and_ Sabrina) had to weather the storm, you had to stand your ground in the face of Hurricane Karma and you thought (you _silly silly_ girl) that this time you were prepared, that this time you could take it.

Karma's standing just outside your bedroom door and Felix is sitting on your bed and you think he might be crying (he is) (and you don't really care) (like not _at all_ ) and you've got no idea where Sabrina is (and you don't _want_ to care) (but you do) (you _so_ do) and you think back on how stupid you were.

You thought you could take anything.

Silly, silly girl.

* * *

**YESTERDAY**

The first time you try to tell her, Farrah fucks it up.

"I was gonna go with magical," she says and then the rest of it is just words and David Blaine and you don't know or care because then you're kissing her again. You kiss her because you don't know how _not_ to. You don't know how to see that smile on her face or how to watch her fingers toying with your buttons

(and you're surprised by how much you want her to stop _toying_ and start _doing_ )

or how to hear her say 'magical' and not _need_ to be _closer_ to her, to not need _her_.

That scares you a little.

(Fuck _that_.) (It scares you _a lot_.) (Like _all_ the scared.)

You dated Roy ( _are_ ) (are _dating_ Roy) (you haven't had a chance to end it) (cause that requires talking and talking requires your lips and those have been a little… _busy_ ) for almost a year and you never once felt this kind of _need_. Or this much _want_. He - and his kisses and touches and his fingers that don't know _shit_ about toying _or_ doing - has always just kinda been… _there._

Amy's _not_ just there. She's fucking _everywhere_ and she's everywhere _all the time_ and it's most exhilarating (and terrifying) and awesome (and terrifying) and arousing (and, in case you didn't hear - _terrifying_ ) thing you've ever felt.

That's not actually true. Not… _entirely_.

The need and the want are great and frightening and wonderful and terrifying (told _you_ ) and exciting and just… _everything_. But they're not… the _most_.

The _most_ is the _secret_ (your secret) and the secret is the _worst_ and the worst is the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach and it comes a lot, but especially when you kiss her and you _need_ to tell her your secret (Roy) (it has a _name_ ) (even if you can't think of it whenever she's around, it - _he_ \- still has a name) because it's the right thing to do.

(And because her kisses are perfect and you need them to never - never _ever_ \- be tied to making you feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach or to you thinking about… _him_.)

(Roy.) (For _fuck's sake_ … _Roy_.)

You can't imagine kissing someone over and over and over again (and you can't imagine _not_ kissing her over and over and over again) with that much guilt inside. You can't even begin to process what it must do to a person to kiss and hold and lo… _care_ … for someone that much while still carrying around a secret like _that_.

You don't just _want_ to tell her. You _have_ to.

Even if wrecks it all (you pray it won't) and even if it gives Karma all the ammo she needs to run you out of Amy's life (and it probably will) and even if you lose her.

(You _can't_.) (You just _can't_.)

No matter the risk, you have to tell her because she _deserves_ that, she deserves the _entire_ truth and you have to tell her. And you're _going_ to. Right now. Right this moment, as you pull away and your eyes squeeze shut (cause you can't _see_ her when you _tell_ her cause it will _hurt_ her and you can't watch _that_ ) and the words come bubbling up

( _I lied_ )

and just as they come tumbling free they're lost in the sounds of Farrah barging in and you both barely have time to sit up and be presentable and make like you weren't just attached at the lips and you don't think Amy _heard_ and you nod along and shake your head when Farrah asks if you're bringing dates to the Ho-Ho-Holiday party and even with her mother there, it's all you can do to not take Amy's hand (and then her _lips_ ) and claim her as _yours_ , especially when Farrah starts going on and on about Felix (such a nice boy) (such a friendly boy) (such a sweet boy and he and Amy had such fun at Prom and did she mention he's such a nice _boy_?)

(Maybe she should date him.) (Can't be any worse than her usual choices.)

And then, as fast as she came, Farrah's gone and Amy's holding your hands and staring into your eyes and talking about secrets and how they blow up on you and you know you're talking back but you don't actually know _what_ you're _saying_ or what you're _agreeing to_ (something about Karma) (as _always_ ) and all you can hear and all you can think is secrets and secrets and secrets and you… you… you…

You just fucking _can't_.

Especially since she's kissing you again and yeah, there's that feeling in your stomach but it's nothing compared to the feelings _elsewhere_

(your heart)

(get your mind out of the gutter)

(except she's toying with those buttons again and the gutter's seeming awfully _good)_

and you just can't do it, you just can't say it. Not now. Not like _this_.

It's OK, though. You've got time.

There will be another chance.

* * *

**NOW**

Karma's lurking in the hall outside your room and you know she heard everything you just said to Felix and, really, that's fine.

You were saying it as much to her as to him.

(Maybe more.)

She's lurking but she doesn't barge in and you don't know if that's her attempt (another one) at pushing you and Felix together or if she's actually just finally realized.

She fucked up.

You wonder if she knew, like you did. If she knew from the moment he walked in

(Roy.) (He has a name.) (You heard her use it.)

just how monumentally fucked you (and she) were.

You'd never seen him before and he really wasn't all that much to look at (but let's face it, your taste in men has always left a little something to be desired) but there was something… there was something there.

Maybe it was the way he walked right on in, like he belonged there with the other people you knew and cared about (or at least tolerated) (yeah, Liam was there.) There was a purpose to his entrance, a means to an end behind the way he stopped just inside the door, his eyes doing a slow circle of the room.

It might have been the glower (is that the word?) (you'd never actually ever seen anyone glower before, so you had no frame of reference) (but there was a definite...well… glower to his look, like he'd come looking for someone or something and not to bring them flowers or chocolates or best wishes for a safe and happy holiday season.)

But then (and this is kinda likely) it might have been the shirt. The one (at least a size too small and who says girls are the only ones trying too hard?) with his high school name and mascot on the front and they were kinda… familiar and they kinda… tickled something at the back of your mind, like you kinda… knew them? From somewhere?

(Like the shirt that had ended up on your bedroom floor just last night.)

Maybe it was this or maybe it was that or maybe (not really maybe) it was the way their faces went white, the both of them. Maybe (probably not maybe) it was the way both of them, at opposite ends of the room (like they'd been all night) looked like they'd seen a fucking ghost or zombie or Santa come to fucking life or (really) and old acquaintance not forgotten. Maybe (so not fucking maybe) it was the way Sabrina looked at you (like she'd already lost you) (another look that was all too familiar) or the way Karma looked at her ('you want a villain?') and refused to look at you.

(And yeah, you can tell when Karma's actively not looking at you cause it happens so fucking rarely, it kinda stands out.)

It was all that and it was the way that Felix (next to Karma) (like he had been all night) (and when had that happened and how hadn't you notice and - most importantly - why didn't you care?) dropped his cookie (sugar cookie) (fucking plain cookie) and muttered 'oh shit' under his breath and made a beeline for the door like he could stop him (the cookie could have taken Felix) (with little effort) and it was the way Sabrina sank down into the closest chair with her head in her hands and it was the way Karma…

It was the way Karma found herself right where she always was, eventually. Right by your side, her hand on your arm and something - was that pity? - in her eyes.

"It'll be OK," she whispered.

And even before you heard Sabrina say his name (Roy) (his name was - is - Roy) and even before he asked her just when, exactly, she'd decided she was gay

(an excellent question, you thought)

(score one for Roy)

and when, exactly, she'd planned on telling him (the boy was on a roll) and even before she walked away from him and came looking for you and even before you heard those three little words

('I can explain')

you knew the truth. Even as Karma kept whispering in your ear.

"It'll be OK."

God, she was such a fucking liar.

They both were.


	5. Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the aftermath of 'Exposed' could have gone down a little differently...

You're not really all that surprised that it's Felix that chases after you.

Karma has a history of watching you walk away, after all. (Walk, run, ride a fucking tour bus, _whatever_.)

Plus, it's what the good guy would do and that _is_ his role in this whole thing, right? He gets to play the good guy, the voice of reason, the trustworthy and sane and dependable and sane and reasonable and _sane_ one. Felix is the guy who releases you because it's _wrong_ to hold you there, it's _wrong_ to make you wait for him, it's _wrong_ to expect you to be as selfless as him.

He's the _good_ guy.

(You know, as long as the _good_ guy is allowed to supposedly be pining after you while making puppy eyes at your best friend.)

(And _that's_ not fair and you _know_ it cause releasing _you_ meant releasing _him_ and it's not like you haven't been making puppy eyes at anyone, lately.)

(So you totally shouldn't judge him cause totally not fair but you know what?)

(You _totally_ don't fucking _care_.)

It isn't like you want him or like you even _wanted_ him when you supposedly had a… _thing_ … cause, really, you didn't. You didn't _want_ him when you went to prom and you didn't _want_ him when you kissed him and you didn't _want_ him when you had your second so-called date. You've never _wanted_ him (but he was always there) and you've never _needed_ him (but still he stays) and he was always your _second_ choice (or third) (maybe fourth) (maybe just the default cause there was no other option and it made Farrah _so_ happy) and you made that pretty fucking clear by sucking on Karma's tongue in the pool and _that_ finally did make him leave.

But he came back.

He always comes back. No matter what you do (or _who_ ), no matter how obvious you make it that what you feel for him registers at a level that's (maybe) just above your resting pulse rate, no matter how many girls he sees you with (and let's be real, you had more chemistry with a girl in a fucking costume you'd known for five minutes than with him), it doesn't matter.

He comes back. He's _there_. He waits and he cares and he helps and he'd lay down on train tracks to spare you pain.

Fuck all… no wonder Karma's making puppy eyes of her own.

He's _you_. Just with a dick and let's face it, _that_ matters to _her_.

Yeah, you're not surprised he's the one who chases after you. It's what _you'd_ do. And yeah, you're not surprised it's him and _not_ Karma. She's probably thinking that this is some perfect moment, something right out of one of her movies. This is the chance for Felix to come and console you and for you to cry on his (kinda girly) (like fourth grade girly) shoulder and then, in one spectacular moment that she couldn't have scripted better herself (though you bet she's fucking _tried_ ) you'll look into his eyes.

"How could I have been so blind?" you'll ask. "How could I not see _you_ were right here all along?"

It's a nice moment, the kind of moment _a lot_ of girls would kill for (Karma would, without a doubt, offer up a Zen sacrifice for it, _at least_ ) but here's the problem.

You're not a lot of girls.

And Felix isn't _any_.

And he's certainly not the _girl_ you actually _want_ (even if - right now - you fucking _hate_ that you want her) (and you _really_ do.)

Knowing Felix (and that doesn't require much studying) you're sure Karma didn't even have to work for it, she didn't even have to _try_ to get him to come after you. It was probably his idea, he probably gave her some bullshit about you maybe killing the messenger (though the messenger was… _him_ ) (Roy) (and the message was already delivered _and_ read _and_ deleted and yeah, it's still sitting in your trash folder and no, you're not quite ready to empty _that_ and no, you don't know when you _will_ be, and yes, it's called fucking hope and you still have it fuck you very much.) Felix probably suggested he be the one to take that particular bullet.

You can _hear_ him saying it. "You and Amy have already been through so much," he said. "I'll go. I'll take the heat."

And, of course, she let him. And, _of course_ , she did that _for you_ , to put you two together, to help you see that your _other_ crush (and Felix = Sabrina only in Karma's mind) was the _right_ crush and when you see him come through your door, when you realize that he's never let you down and he's never lied to you and he's never pretended to be something he isn't

(all of which eliminates Sabrina, you know) (and, come to think of it, _Karma_ too)

then it's just a hop, a skip, and a hump (not the _day_ ) from you and him to hand holding and date nights and joint college applications and his spot on the porch of the houses you and Karma and her husband will have right next door to each other.

It is, you have to admit, a sorta romantic and even a little bit logical way to look at it.

Totally fucking _wrong_ , but sorta romantic (in a _Notebook_ heteronormative kinda way) and a little bit logical (if you get your logic from the Katherine Heigl movie oeuvre.)

So, you know, it's basically Karma in a nutshell.

He's sitting on the edge of your bed and you're leaning against your desk chair with your back to him and you haven't said a word since he got here, but that's OK, cause he's done _all_ the talking.

"It's for the best," he said. And you thought, briefly, of asking him _whose_ best cause, clearly, not _yours_ (or Sabrina's) (and you'd guess not Roy's either) (not that you _care_.)

Maybe it's _his_ best and you're pretty sure it's _Karma's_ best and well… _yay_ … cause _that's_ what matters, right?

"It's better you found out now, right?" he asked. "Before things went too far."

He says it like a fact, like it ends with a period and it ends without doubt and with definitely no 'too far' between you and Sabrina. That's how he _says_ it, but how he _means_ it is less statement and less fact and a whole lot _more_ hope and prayer and fishing for you to say something - _anything_ \- that will tell him he's right.

Sure. Things hadn't gone _too_ far.

You hadn't fucked her yet.

And there was only a little kissing and some simple hands-over-clothes action (and by over clothes, you mean hands _pulling_ clothes _over_ as in over her head or _down_ over her thighs) and you hadn't once - not _even_ \- thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , for the first time in so very long, you'd found someone you _could_ love.

You didn't. Love her, that is. Not yet.

But you could've.

You guessed - _correctly_ \- that he didn't want to hear _that_ , so you kept your mouth shut and let him keep right on keeping on. And that was _easy_ for him cause he had them all lined up, all the you got rid of her just in time greatest hits.

It hurts _now_ , but it will get better.

It just takes a little time.

One day at a time, that's what you've gotta do.

(wonder where _he_ got _that_ one)

She wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth your heart.

You deserve better.

They slip from his tongue with ease and roll off of you like water, pooling around your feet and all you can feel is the way you're starting to sink into them and all you want to _do_ is drown, so at least you won't have to fucking _listen_ anymore. He's not helping, he's not saying anything you couldn't get from a fucking country song (and not even one of the _good_ ones) and you know that's not really fair.

What _could_ he say?

Sorry your girlfriend was a liar? Sorry your _girlfriend_ had a _boyfriend_? Sorry your girlfriend had a boyfriend she told you was made up who somehow ended up, very _not_ made up, in the middle of your living room?

Somehow.

_Somehow_.

"How?" you ask, cutting him off in the middle of another one of his trope-tastic cliches. "How did… _he_ … end up here?"

Felix is quiet for a minute (and never has silence been so _beautiful_ ) before he gives the most ridiculous and obvious answer _ever_. "She told you. Karma. She told you what happened."

Yeah, _she_ told _you_. Somewhere in between 'I can explain' and 'Get the fuck out', Karma told you the whole thing.

"Tell me again," you say. "Tell me."

He shifts on the bed and you can _hear_ him shuffling his feet and running his hands through his hair and you can _feel_ the discomfort and _\- fuck all_ \- it makes you feel just a _little_ better.

And that makes you want to puke.

"Sabrina left her phone," he says.

"Karma _stole_ it," you say and yeah, that's probably _semantics_ and _technicalities_ but that's the world _she_ lives in.

"Sabrina left the phone," he says again. "And Karma brought it to me cause she didn't know… what to do."

"She didn't know how to unlock it and she thought phone hacking was in the nerd handbook, so…" He doesn't even try to correct you. "Go on."

"While we were talking about it, Roy called and Karma… _answered._ "

"Who?" you ask. You're still leaning against your desk chair and you're pretty sure there's gonna be finger grooves in the wood backrest. " _Who_ answered?"

"Amy…"

You shove the chair hard against the desk, relishing the sound - so violent and loud and _simple_ \- of the wood crashing against the wood. _That's_ what you so very desperately want to be right now. Violent and loud and _simple_. You want to run downstairs and ignore _her_ (Karma) and chase _her_ (Sabrina) outside and slap the fucking taste…

You slam the chair again. Harder. You catch two of your fingers between the backrest and the edge of the desk and it hurts like a _motherfucker_ and the skin and your nails break and there's blood, but you don't make a sound.

Because, really, you don't want to do any of that. You _don't_ want to slap her and you don't want to chase her and you don't want to do _anything_ except curl up in your bed and feel Karma's arms around you and cry until you're nothing but a shrunken dehydrated wrinkled mess.

And that _doesn't_ make you want to puke. It makes you want to _die_. Because you can't want _that_. Not again. Not ever again. You can't you can't you _fucking_ can't and it's all _her_ (take your fucking pick) fault.

Your hands work on their own, yanking the chair from under the desk and whipping it across the room, slamming it into your bedroom door and then you hear it. You hear _her_. Out in the hall, the soft little yelp as the chair bounces off the door and _of course_ she's out there and _of course_ she's listening and _of course_ she's waiting.

Waiting for you to break. For you to crack. For you to be _her_ Amy again. The one she needs to protect and the one she needs to guide and the one…

The one that _needs_ her.

"Who?" you ask him again, loud enough that you _know_ she can hear it. " _Who_ answered?"

Felix stands from the bed and, for a second, you think he's going to come to you, he's going to try and put his arms around you and hold you while you slap and punch and pummel him (like in one of Karma's fucking movies) until you break down in his arms and then there'll be that moment…

"Sabrina," he says softly. "Karma _pretending_ to be Sabrina, but that's not the point."

"No?"

He shakes his head and it's the most convinced of anything you've ever seen him. "Karma fucked up, OK? Is that what you want me to say?" He takes one halting step toward you and thinks better of it. "She did the _right_ thing in all the _wrong_ ways but the point is that she _did_ the right thing. Sabrina was a liar. She was a fake."

It's not like you don't _know_ all that, but hearing it… hearing it from _him_ (and knowing he's not _just_ being jealous or manipulative or paranoid), it's enough to finally bring the tears you've been holding back. They stream down your cheeks but you don't fucking _sob_ , you don't _crack_ , you don't _crumble_ and _curl_ and _fall_.

You're not giving her (either one) _that_.

"You think I don't _know_ that?" you ask. "I know _exactly_ what she did."

You _do_. It's all too… familiar.

"I know you do," he says. "And you have no idea how much I wish Karma had been wrong."

Oh, you've got an _idea_.

"And I know what you're doing," he says. "I know why you're snapping at me and why you're making me rehash it all. Karma warned me this might happen."

There's a pain, right in your neck, right at the base of your skull and you cock your head to the side but it doesn't do _shit_. "Warned you? Karma _warned_ you?"

You don't actually _hear_ anything from the hall, but you _know_. You know that _she_ knows that this is _exactly_ the reason she _shouldn't_ have sent Felix.

"Yeah," he says. "She said when you're hurt, especially _this_ hurt, you lash out." He sits back down on the edge of the bed. "Like when you and Liam… you know."

Yeah. You _know_.

"I get it," he says and you're surprised cause there's something in his voice, a tiny subtle little change that reminds you of the boy you met (for the first time, really) after his accident, on his way back to rehab. "I know what it's like to want to blame someone, to make someone the bad guy. It makes it… not _easier_ … just… bearable."

He's not wrong. At least, not about the not easier part.

"And I know what she did was crazy," he says. "And I know it doesn't seem like it right now, what it being kinda fresh and all -"

"Nothing _fresh_ about it," you say, cutting him off. "Fresh suggests new. Fresh suggests not a pattern. Fresh… fresh means it's the first time."

You've had a lot of firsts with Karma. This ain't one of them.

He ignores everything you say (cause why should he be any different) and goes on. "I know you want someone to blame, Amy," he says. "But you _have_ someone. _Sabrina_ lied, _Sabrina_ cheated, _Sabrina_ hurt you."

"And Karma?"

He hops up off the bed and closes the distance between you, till he's just a breath away.

"Karma _saved_ you."

There's seventy-five people downstairs and every one of them watched as Karma (and Felix) (and Sabrina) (and Roy) (can't forget _Roy_ ) revealed your stupidity, the utter… _fakeness_ of your relationship to the world.

They showed everyone… they showed Ron the Con and your mother and Shane and Noah and Theo (fucking _Theo_ ) how gullible you were. How stupid. How trusting and naive and ridiculous.

How could you have ever thought _she_ felt the same way you did? How could you have ever thought she could actually have _wanted_ and _needed_ and _desired_ you?

Karma never did. Karma never thought it, not even for a second.

The tears roll down your cheeks and it's everything you can do to stay standing. His words keep running through your head over and over on a fucking loop

_(it's an endless loop right through my heart_ )

She saved you.

She _saved_ you. Karma rode to your rescue and banished the evil _bitch._ She outed Sabrina to everyone, she showed them all how it was just a plot, just a ploy to get rid of _her_ , that it was never about caring for you or wanting to be with you or that she …

maybe... could've… maybe…

( _fuck_ )

No, it wasn't about _that_ , it was about Karma and it was Karma who had to save you because, let's face it, you clearly couldn't do _that_ on your own. You're lucky, that's what he's saying, you're so lucky to have someone like _her_ who would (and could) do what you couldn't. He's here right now because of _her_ , because _he's_ what you need and _he's_ what's best and how could you have been so fucking blind that you didn't see _that_?

How?

Just… _how?_

You know _how_. Cause evolution and change and growth and selfish and sabotage and… _fuck her_ (both of them.) Felix _was_ right. You do have a bad guy.

Two of them, as a matter of fact.

You turn to him, those words still ringing in your head, with the tears streaking your face and the blood slowly dripping from your hand and he takes a step back and you know, he can see it in your eyes.

"So tell me, Felix," you say. "Do I look _saved_ to you?"


	6. Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's been lots of talk about Sabrina getting Karma's story. And maybe that was the point. And maybe if Karma had seen that.. Or how Karma comes to play hero for Sabramy while realizing a thing or two herself

You're tugging your tiny suitcase and your guitar and trying not to think about how little you have left, how many of your possessions and mementos and keepsakes are no more, just burned away. You try not to think about the pictures (the ones you so carefully and lovingly rehung on your mirror after the Liam… _indiscretion_ ) and the home movies burned and sizzled away inside your laptop hard drive and all the trinkets and toys and treats Amy bought you over the years, now just so much charcoal.

You've got your heart - it's dangling round your neck - and now, more than ever, you know you've still got _hers_. And so fire be damned cause those are just _things_ (and you've still got more than Zen, anyway) and you've got all of _those_ you need and you've got _her_ and what more do you really need?

(And maybe if you'd thought like _that_ a year ago…)

But now isn't the time for regret and now isn't the time for thinking about woulda coulda shoulda and now, apparently, isn't the time for just being happy ( _never_ the time for that, now is it?) cause there _she_ is.

Not the she you _want_ to see (oh, that rhymed) (God, you need some sleep) (a house burning tends to wreck the rem-rest) but _that_ she - even though you know you've got her - is still only barely speaking to you (and you're only barely holding back the oppressive wave of guilt over _that_ ) and yeah, she's letting you stay with her but that's only cause it was with her or with _Diane_.

And no matter how pissed at you she is, Amy's not _that_ mean.

So, no, it's not the she you want… want to _see_ … (like the 'to see' makes it so much better) but, you figure, it's the she you were destined to run into eventually.

Destiny, like the universe, is a fucking dick.

She - _Sabrina_ \- is right where you would have thought she'd be, if you'd given her anything more than a passing thought in the last week (like you _haven't_ ) (like the deafening silence from Amy and the weird weirdness with Felix and the burning of your house and the thought - over and over and over again - of Amy's face that night hasn't kept _her_ front and fucking center in your mind.)

(Someone's gotta be to blame for it all, right?)

So there she is, right where you'd imagined she'd be staring up at Amy's window, leaning against the tree you hid behind for your… _Felix's_ … grand gesture (though, since you doubt the sincerity of her feelings, you're not sure _why_ you kept imagining her here.)

(And that's a lie.) (You know why you thought she'd be there, of all places.)

(It's where _you_ would have been.)

(And Sabrina is all about _you_.) (Right?) ( _Right_.)

But you know… fuck where you _would_ have been, it's where you _should_ _have_ been that night, after the shit hit the fan and you'd sent Felix trundling off after Amy. You should have been right there, leaning against that tree, staring up at that window and hoping Amy was OK. Hoping that Felix was being her shoulder to cry on (her pale and not all that strong but _honest_ and _there_ shoulder.) You should have been there and not _up there_ , outside the room, listening and waiting for your moment.

The one where you could jump in and save the day and _be_ that shoulder and yes, you _can_ admit that _that_ is _exactly_ why you were there cause, let's face it, _everyone_ already knows that.

It's not _why_ you were there that matters. It's why _that_ mattered to you, why being _that_ for Amy mattered so much, why you _couldn't_ let Felix do it, why it had to be _you_. You've thought a lot about that in the last seven days (pretty much every time you've tried to talk to Amy) (and she hasn't talked back) and you _know_ the answer (you've _always_ known it) but knowing _why_ and knowing _what_ (as in what _the fuck_ to do about it) are two different things.

And really, what _can_ you do about it? Tell her? Tell her that she's your best friend and you love her more than anything and maybe ( _maybe_ ) it's not quite the love you thought it was and that maybe ( _maybe_ ) seeing her with someone else… made you see it?

(slapped you in the fucking face?)

(kicked you in the ass?)

(broke your already fragile heart and pushed you into being absolutely insane and doing the most ridiculous of things like pretending to be someone else and pretending to be from another country and pretending that every time Felix makes those fucking puppy eyes at you it's actually sweet and adorable and you might actually _consider_ it?)

Yeah. That would be good. You should tell her all that. Tell her all that just a week after the girl she liked ( _really really liked_ ) (can't forget the _really_ ) (or the _second_ one) broke her heart (with a little bit of help) when you know, when you can see it every time you look in Amy's eyes and hear it in every word she _doesn't_ say.

She still likes her. She still _really really_ likes her.

The heart, you've realized, is like the universe and like destiny. A fucking _dick_.

So, no, there's not much you _can_ do _except_ think about it and _fuck all_ , you're _sick_ of thinking about it and you know what, that's just one more thing you can drop on Sabrina the teenage bitch's blame pile.

(You've been waiting to use that one ever since she showed up.)

(It's somewhat less satisfying than you'd thought.)

There's a moment, as you draw closer (and it isn't fleeting and it isn't short and you know you should feel bad for it cause you know you're supposed to be _better_ than that - than _her_ \- but you don't) when you think about saying something. When you think about chastising her and berating her and reminding her that no one hurts Amy on your watch, not even an _amiga_.

(Unless that amiga is you.)

( _Shut the fuck up._ )

(Yes, you're talking to yourself now.)

( _Fuck_.)

And it's in that moment - that not very fleeting one - when an image of Amy's face

(and words) ( _those_ words)

( _do I look saved to you?)_

and her tears and her bloody hand and the pain in her eyes, the same pain you'd once sworn (after the wedding) you'd never again be the cause of (and you aren't) (that was _her_ ) (that was _all_ her)

(keep telling yourself that)

flashes through your mind and you keep your mouth shut and walk right on by because taunting her or arguing with her or _speaking_ to her is only going to make everything worse and - seeing as how worse might just _kill_ you - that's one thing you won't do.

"Happy now?"

_You_ won't. She, apparently, _will_.

(Another thing you can blame her for.)

(You need to start keeping a list.)

Her words come out choked and she has to clear her throat halfway through and you think… yes… she _is_... she's crying. And she looks like she's _been_ crying (like for a week straight) and you want to feel bad about that, really you do.

(Keep telling yourself that, _too._ )

You should walk away. You should keep right on going, pulling your suitcase and your guitar and head right into the house, the one where you're still _welcome_ (no matter _what_ you do), the one you'll get to call home, the one where _she_ \- the she you want (to see) - is probably waiting for you.

(Cause _of course_ she is. Amy would wait for you for…)

( _Fuck_ )

Yup. You're just _so_ happy.

"Yeah," you mutter. "I'm thrilled. Doing a little happy dance, can't you tell?" You drop the handle of your suitcase and you fist clenches at your side. "My house burned down, my parents are staying with their… _girlfriend_ … and my _best_ friend is inside right now, probably crying and broken and feeling like she's incapable of being loved all because _you_ broke her heart." You want to grab the handle again and turn on your heel and walk off in a huff - mike fucking dropped - but your fingers won't unclench and your feet won't move and fuck _all_ why does _she_ look so fucking _destroyed_?

She doesn't have the right. She just… _doesn't_.

"Her heart didn't have to break," Sabrina says softly and _that's_ enough to get you moving again, except it's in the _wrong_ direction and that fist is still clenched and you know this is a bad idea

(like catastrophically monumentally unbelievably sex in a thunderbox _bad_ )

but when has _that_ ever stopped you?

"It didn't _have_ … didn't ha… _you're_ telling _me_ that _Amy's_ …" You stop and take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself enough to maybe actually _complete_ a thought. "You're right. It didn't _have_ to break. And _you_ didn't have to kiss her and _you_ didn't have to tell her your boyfriend didn't exist and _you_ didn't have to do all of _that_ and _you_ didn't _have_ to be such a lying _bitch_ just to try and push _me_ out."

Point, Ashcroft.

"Like you'd have let me stay if I didn't," she says.

Well, that's just clearly _not_ … well, certainly you would… oh, come on, you would have…

Yeah…

Point, Sabrina.

"Look," you say. "Maybe that's true. Maybe I would have been… a _little_ possessive… and maybe I would have made things… _a touch_ difficult for you." You ignore the way her eyebrow arches (and where does Amy find _them_?) and roll right on. "But if you think that excuses pretending to be gay -"

"Why do you keep insisting I was _pretending_?" she asks and you can feel the gears grinding in your head, the utter confusion filling your mind, the total inability to believe the sheer _audacity_ of this bitch.

Why do you think she was pretending? _Why?_

The boyfriend. The lies. The boyfriend. The straight when she fucking got here. The boyfriend. The kissing Amy only when she knew you were watching.

_The boyfriend._

"Why do I think you were pretending?" you ask (and you didn't know your voice could get _that_ high.) "I don't know," you say. "Maybe because you _were_?"

Sabrina starts to say something but then she stops and shakes her head. She doesn't argue or contradict or try to convince you (or herself) (and could she, maybe, teach _you_ how to do _that_ ) and she doesn't put up a single bit of fight. She just turns away, but not before casting one last look up at Amy's window. And oh, she's _good_ , like give the girl an Oscar good, so perfectly dramatic with the tears and the longing and you it makes you just want to tweet #sadSabrina to the fucking world. God, if you'd been _this_ good at faking it…

(except you're not sure, like _at all_ , what she's still pretending for)

(the jig is fucking _up_ )

(game fucking _over_ )

(no need to fake it anymore)

(no reason)

(not a one)

(not…)

( _fuck_ )

"You were straight," you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "You were _straight_." You're not sure why you keep needing to remind _her_ of that (even if it has become something of a habit for _you_ the last year or so.) "You and Amy were together four days and _five_ days before you… before she and you… before Felix and I saw… _before_ … you were _straight_."

She stops, most likely dazzled by your clearly flawless logic.

Point, you. Again.

" _Amy_ was straight," she says. "She was straight five _minutes_ before she kissed you."

Fuck. Just… _fuck_.

Point… oh, who the fuck _cares_. Even _you_ know nobody's _winning_ this.

"But...but…" You're stammering. _You're_ fucking _stammering_ like _you're_ the guilty party here and OK, _maybe_ you didn't handle things _perfectly_ but… "You had a _boyfriend_."

She nods.

She fucking _nods_.

Does she not understand how this is supposed to work? Does she not get that she's supposed to fight and argue and kick and scream and cuss you out and and and

(and prove you fucking _right_?)

"I did," she says (fucking _agreeable_ bitch.) "For eight months. And I had a girlfriend. For four days." She glances back up at the window (and now she's just fucking _milking_ it) and then back to you. "Any guesses which one I miss more?"

* * *

This was so not the plan.

The plan was simple. Walk to Amy's house. Drop off your stuff, see if she was home (and maybe speaking to you.) Maybe some _House Hunters_ or some _Dance Moms_ or maybe even the 'break in case of emergency' offer of watching _Game of Thrones_.

That was the plan. Watch Jon Snow come back from the dead, hope there was a minimal amount of naked breasts (watching boobs with Amy had become like watching them with your mom though now that there was _Diane_ that was even _worse_ ) and remind her - with just your unwavering presence - that everything would be alright.

_That_ was the plan. _This_ \- sitting in the Brew 'n Chew across a table from… _her_ \- was _not_ the fucking plan.

Universe. _Dicks_.

At least Sabrina seems as confused and unnerved and completely fucking lost as to how you got here (there were tears and a moment of compassion and a decided need to _not_ face Amy right then and there) (not with… doubts) (or, you know, more doubts than usual) as you are. She's taken like two sips of her Moccachino and if there's one thing you _do_ know about her (and you're starting to realize there's a surprising amount you _don't_ ) it's that the girl _loves_ her caffeine, so clearly, this is fucking _weird_.

(It isn't Felix and you weird but then again, what _is_?)

You stir your coffee (hot, two sugars, extra extra cream) for about the thousandth time and stare at her across the table. In the crappy fluorescent lighting, she looks even worse than she did outside (and no, you're not saying that just to make yourself feel better.) Her phone's on the table in front of her (right across from yours) and just seeing it gives you the icks and you almost ask her to put it away.

If she'd only done that a week ago.

(And yes, you get that for that part - and _only_ that part - you're totes blaming the victim but she hurt Amy so _fuck her_.)

(And no, you're not thinking, not even a little, about how _that_ probably sounds a lot - or _exactly_ \- like what Lauren probably said to Amy right before they turned your humping loose on the entire campus.)

There's this silence and it's _not_ comfortable, it's the exact _opposite_ (so, you know, _uncomfortable_ , but that doesn't nearly do it _justice_ ) and it's just sitting there, between you, so you guess that kinda makes it the 'Amy' here and you just can't fucking take it and you need to say something, say _anything_.

"Tell me about him," you say (anything but _that_.) "Tell me about the boyfriend you don't miss."

Sabrina runs a finger along the rim of her mug, her eyes darting to the phone and you know she's remembering the same thing you are and probably wishing just as hard that she'd just picked the fucking thing up. "His name is Roy," she says. "We dated for about eight months. He was a great guy and I really… I liked him. I didn't love him and I never told him I did even though he said it to me all the time."

One sided love affair. You know how that goes. Though you suppose you were always the Roy...

"So if you didn't love him then why not break up with him?" you ask. "When you moved here, why did you keep trying the long distance thing?"

Sabrina shrugs and shakes her head and drops her eyes and it - all of it - _screams_ 'I wish I had' and yeah, that would have made things just a little… _different_. "Because he _was_ a _great_ guy. And those don't grow on trees. And…" She takes a long sip of her drink before setting the mug back down precisely in the same spot. "I didn't know Amy would be here. Or you. Or anyone. And… he loves me and that felt good, and I know… totally selfish… but I thought I'd be alone here and I just…"

Yeah. She _just_.

You know how that goes _too_.

"I had four days, Karma. It was a fucking whirlwind, one moment after another and I never saw any of it coming," she says. "Amy gave that speech and then I kissed her and my world… it was like… _woah_."

When Amy kisses someone, it's _always_ like _woah_.

You know how that…

_(fuck)_

"I know why you did what you did and why you thought you _had_ to," Sabrina says, "As much as I hate it and as much as I wanted that night to punch your right in your smug little face…" She wraps both hands around her mug, like she's freezing even though it's in the seventies. "It was _my_ fault. _I_ lied. _I_ didn't tell him and _I_ didn't tell _her_ , but I had four days, that was it. Four days to figure out how to tell… we only told Farrah like an hour before Roy showed up and I never even told _my_ parents." She raises the mug to take another sip but it never reaches her mouth. "I barely even told _myself_. I didn't know _what_ to tell."

There's a moment when you see Amy in a cheap store bought crown and Farrah with a microphone and you in her arms - staring at _him_ \- and… yeah. You get it.

Telling isn't so easy when telling's the truth.

And it's never easy with pressure or with someone (or an entire TV viewing area) watching your every move. Sometimes it takes something more, like a boyfriend showing up (or crawling out from under a table) or someone leaving or a jailhouse speech.

Or a toast.

_Fuck._

"But he was _here_ , Sabrina," you say. Your fingers tighten around your mug and you know you're grasping at straws cause you know (you _know_ ) and you know more than that (more than what she was and wasn't pretending), you know that _you_ fucked up and it's so much easier to focus on _her_ and _her_ fuck ups (which were many and massive.) "He was _in_ Austin. That hardly seems like someone you weren't trying to be with."

Her eyes snap up from the table and _there_ it is. There's that fire you were hoping for, that anger, that 'proverbial pickle, boo' _bullshit_. Now she's getting with the program.

Now _she_ can be the bitch and _you_ can be off the hook.

Again.

"When you were pretending to be me," she says, "you know… _lying_ … did you ask him _why_ he was here?" You don't remember for sure (it was all such a panicked blur and then there were accents and Felix being Australian Felix, which was even more ridiculous than regular Felix) so you don't _know_ , but if she's asking…

"No," you say.

The fire dies a little in her eyes and no, no, no, that's the _wrong_ thing. "Yeah," she says. "Didn't think so. Cause if you had… he might have mentioned that we hadn't talked." She shakes her head and stares into her mug. "Not a word. Not a call, not a text, not a fucking smoke signal. Not once in _four days_."

She leaves it hanging there - _four days_ \- and yes, you get it. She hadn't talked to the _boyfriend_ once since she kissed the _girlfriend_.

And that doesn't make it all better, it barely makes it _any_ better - not for _you_ \- but that's the fucking _point_ isn't it?

It isn't about _you_. It's about what it might have done for _her_.

And you never gave her (either of them) the chance.

"I didn't know how to tell him," Sabrina says. "I didn't know how to say… I kissed a girl. I kissed her and I have feelings for her and no, I never once even _thought_ I liked girls and no, I never _imagined_ I would kiss one and I know you love me but…"

But.

_But_. But it was Amy.

(at the risk of being repetitive?) ( _fuck_ )

Your phone buzzes on the table and Amy's face lights up your screen and Sabrina makes this… you think it's a sound but you've never heard anything quite _like_ it but it _hurts_ and you snatch the phone off the table and reject Amy

(the call) (you reject _the call_ )

but you're not fast enough because the tears start again and Sabrina's gripping the table edge and her breath is coming in short little hisses like she's in fucking labor and you don't know what to do because you _already_ did it and you can't take it back (and neither can she) and neither of you has even the tiniest clue how to fix it, how to fix what you broke.

How to fix Amy.

(And that's _another_ lie cause your phone's still in your hand and you do have an _idea_ and you know it's the _right_ idea, it really is, it's the one you should have followed in the first place. All you have to do is dial.)

(It's what a friend would do.)

You slip your phone back into your pocket and wait, letting her get it all out.

(Someday, you'll learn and someday you'll get it right.) (Apparently that's not _today_.)

"Is she OK?" Sabrina asks, through the sniffles. "I mean, I know she's not cause… I know… but is… I never…" she shakes her head. "She told me. About what happened between you two and how she confessed and you…"

Thanks for the reminder, Sabs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up. I'm not trying to… it's not the same," she says and fuck all, will she stop? _Stop_ surprising you and _stop_ making you feel bad and _stop_ being fucking human and not some evil caricature or a goblin queen of the bitches sent here to ruin your life and be some force standing between you and your…

_Amy._ Between you and your Amy. Because she _is_ yours. And she always will be.

But _how_?

"I just meant that I know how badly she was hurt before," Sabrina says. "With you and then with Reagan -"

"She told you about that?"

Sabrina nods. "We didn't just spend four days mak…" She glances up and sees the look on your face (and thank _God_ there's no mirrors nearby) and course corrects. "We talked a lot. She understood how confused I was. Like you said, I was with a guy five days before. She understood that and I think… I think she wanted to be better to me than Reagan was to her."

You rejected Amy cause _you_ weren't into girls. Reagan rejected Amy because _she_ wasn't into them _enough_.

Girl couldn't catch a break. And when she did...

"I never wanted to do that," Sabrina says. "I _never_ wanted to hurt her. I wanted to be close to her and when I realized what was happening...I tried to back off and I tried to just be her friend, even if it meant always playing second string to you. But then there was that speech…"

_I started to have hope. Hope that you were realizing that your Prince Charming was Princess Sarcasm._

Yeah, Amy always did have a way with words.

"And then there was the kiss."

_Woah…_

You _know_.

Sabrina stands, suddenly, nearly toppling her drink. She's shaking and she can barely bring herself to touch her phone (fucking traitor.) "I've tried to talk to her and she won't take my calls and her mom won't let me in and I know she's just deleting my texts and I…" She blinks back the tears. "You don't know what it's like, to just be… cut off."

Oh, you might have an idea.

"She gave you a second chance and you gave her one," Sabrina says. "And I know… _I'm_ not _you_. And I don't… I don't deserve a second chance. What I did... "

"You lied," you say and you're not quite sure why you say it or why you say the rest. "You lied about who you were to get closer to someone, to make them feel something for you because you knew it mattered to them. Because you knew it would…"

Because you needed them. Because there was something in you that thought what _they_ thought of you, how _they_ looked at you, the way _they_ cared about you was better than anything you could think or do on your own. Because without _them_ …

_Fuck_

"I'm sorry," she says (it's more of a blurt, a sob, a fucking retching) and then she's bolting and you raise a hand to stop her but you _can't_ make the words come out and you _can't_ move and you _can't_ you _can't_

You fucking _can't_.

You _can't_ because you know if you _do_ , she'll listen. You _can't_ because you know if you _do_ , Amy will give her what she wants (because it's what _Amy_ wants) and if she does that..

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you know who it is even before you pull it out.

_Buttface: Thought you were coming over._

You look back up, your eyes following the path Sabrina too, her words still ringing in your head. _She gave_ you _a second chance. You gave_ her _one._

She gave you more than _one_.

You know what the right thing to do is and you know that even if you do it, there's no guarantee it works out for them, no sure fire fix that makes Amy forgive and forget. She doesn't do that, not very easily.

Not for anyone she doesn't…

(fuck)

She will. You _know_ she will. And it isn't about crush boots and it isn't about who called night duty and who was there first and it isn't about who's between who.

It's about what - _who_ \- it should have been about all along.

Your fingers tap out the reply as you head out the door (you're not running, not yet, but that's OK) (Sabrina was crying too hard to move that fast.)

_On my way. We should talk._

Someday, you'll learn and someday you'll get it right.

Apparently that _is_ today.


	7. Maybe

So _this_ wasn't the plan.

Or, more accurately, _he_ wasn't the plan. And, specifically _he_ is _Felix_ but, really, it could be _any_ he cause yeah… not so much. You might not have labelled yourself and you might not know for _sure_ but you've got a pretty good idea that… how did she put it?

Your slugger swings one way.

Or, at the very least, your slugger likes swinging one way _better_ and, maybe, if you found your slugger a really nice (like Felix) and really sweet (also like Felix) and really not boring as _fuck_ (so _not_ Felix) example of the other side of the plate…

Oh… _fuck_ the analogy or metaphor or _whatever_. Just deal with the facts on the ground.

You may still like guys but you don't like _him_ , not like _that_ and you know it and he knows it and anyone who spends more than thirty seconds with the two of you knows it and you almost feel bad for him, because it isn't his fault.

It's not his fault he isn't her.

And to be fair, Felix _is_ a nice guy, he really is. He's dependable (you know, _unless_ he drinks) (or _unless_ you leave him alone with your best friend for five minutes.) He's friendly (as long as you count that held in, simmering just under the surface probably gonna snap one day and end up in a bell tower with a fucking rifle way of dealing with shit as _friendly_.) He's dorky and he's kind and he's less insane than most of your friends.

Most of your friends are Karma, Shane, and Lauren.

If he _wasn't_ less insane, he'd have to be committed.

So, maybe he's got the personality of a slightly damp cloth and if you actually dated he'd probably be a full on never let you go anywhere or see anyone or do anything without him clinger but he's your _date_ and he's _here_ and he's dealing with your obvious disappointment and he's been nothing but honest with you, which is more than you can say for _some_ people.

Some people who _aren't_ here and you kinda understand that whole conspicuous by their absence thing now.

Felix mumbles something, some supposed to be funny attempt at breaking the ice (the Titanic couldn't break _this_ ice), something about him being a drunk and you hating dancing and so, maybe, this is actually the worst possible date.

(It is.) (It _so_ is.) (And it's got _nothing_ to do with drinking or dancing or the kissing to come.)

(Well.) (Maybe a _little_ to do with the kissing.)

"I don't _hate_ dancing," you say and Felix perks up a little, taking that as a suggestion that maybe he should lead you out onto the floor, that maybe he should take your hand and put his arm around your waist and maybe (just _maybe_ ) by the end of some appropriately slow (and hetero-lyrically laden) song you'll have started to forget _her_ and remember _him_.

You move a step away (just a small one) and sip your punch and mumble something about the band and how shiny Shane's jacket is and where could Karma be and by the time you're finished, you're pretty sure you couldn't _pay_ him to dance with you.

"This was a bad idea," he says and you want to agree with him, you want to nod and say yes and ask him to just take you home and hope that when he drops you off there's only a minimally awkward moment when he wonders if he'll get a kiss or get invited in. You want to.

But you don't.

Instead you shake your head and protest - "No, no, it's _fine_ " - because you know it's what you're _supposed_ to do. _He's_ what you're supposed to do and the universe (fucking _dick_ ) has made _that_ clear, has made it so _perfectly_ obvious that doing anything different (like following your heart) (or any of your other… parts) is a huge mistake and will get you nowhere.

Nowhere but crying in your room listening to the silence of Karma not being able to find the words to make it better.

(And where _is_ she?)

You've gotten the message (loud _and_ clear _and_ painful) and all that's left for you to is to embrace it, to roll with it, to take _his_ hand - "Come on" - and gently pull him toward the dance floor. You can hear the band (minus Karma) (and you wonder if you should worry) tuning up for a slow one and at least that means you can let him hold you close and you can put your head on his shoulder and - for three minutes and change (longer if Shane decides to embellish) - you can pretend that you're with the one you want.

Or that the one you're with actually wants _you_.

You're pretty good at the former, but the latter…

It's hard to imagine something you've never had.

_That's_ the hard part, that's the part that _kills_ because that's the part you thought you'd found, _finally_. Karma didn't like you like _that_ and Reagan _did_ but only a _part_ of you and Felix might have but then you left him with Karma and he realized the parts of you he liked were _her_ and Sabrina…

Yeah. Sabrina.

You thought _she_ liked _you_. Just you. But the you she liked was the one she could keep from Karma, the one that paid attention to her (and _not_ Karma) and wanted her (and _not_ Karma) and was her friend (and _not_ Karma's.)

For Sabrina it was all about Karma (or _not_ Karma, as the case may be) because _of course_ it was. Story of your life, right? Your sexuality - at least your discovery of it - was all about Karma. Your first kiss was about Karma and your second kiss was about (escaping) Karma and your first time was about (hurting) Karma and your first ( _second_ ) love was about (forgetting) Karma.

You turn your head and sneak a peek at Felix and _he's_ sneaking a peek at the door (and he's not really all that sneaky) and you don't even need to ask who he's looking for.

Why should he be any different?

"We don't have to," he says and you know he means the dance but it's hard not to think of how much _else_ he probably means. "I know you don't really want to -"

You shut him up the same way you did at prom - with your lips - and you feel him tense beneath your touch which, really, is impressive because you're surprised you can feel anything _other_ than your heart breaking and the feeling of…. _something_ … inside you dying and oh _God_ this was the wrong wrong wrong thing to do but, really, what else was left?

You've gotten the hint. You've gotten the message. So… _fine_. You'll listen. You'll do what the universe or fate or _whatever_ wants. You'll _dance_ with Felix and you'll _kiss_ Felix and you'll _date_ Felix and - somewhere down the line - _you'll_ get drunk and _he'll_ stay sober and you'll _fuck_ Felix and then you'll _go to college_ with Felix (like he _wouldn't_ follow you) and then you'll _marry_ Felix and have little baby Felixes ( _Felixi_ ?) and you'll both live next door to Karma and Liam (like it could be _anyone_ else) and sip iced tea on the porch and smile your way through the dream life and never once wonder or wish or… _remember_.

And it'll all be _just fine_.

You give. You're crying 'uncle', you're surrendering, you're tapping out with your lips on his and that's it, that's the end, that's all she fucking wrote.

And then Karma walks in.

And then Karma walks in _with her_ and they both spot you across the room and there's anger in Karma's eyes and pain in Sabrina's and you look at Felix and there's _nothing_ in his and you just fucking know.

This is gonna be anything but just fine.

* * *

There have been times (a few) (more _lately) (_ like since the pool) (but still just a… few) when you've found yourself just fucking hating Karma.

The night of your mother's wedding springs to mind. Oh, you still _loved_ her that night, as much (or maybe _more_ ) that you ever had. How could you not? She was _there_ , she was _right there_ with you, amongst all the romance and love and there was the dancing and the song and the laughter and the way she looked at you.

There was hope.

And _then_ there was Liam Booker crawling out from under a table and there was a toast and there was you begging her to jump and her begging you to understand (though not really) (there was just mostly tears and denial and that describes most do the last year or so for you two) and then there was you.

Alone.

Until you weren't.

Yeah… you hated her that night.

And… _maybe_ … there was the night at Communal (which was probably more _mad_ and less _hate)_ and the night when she practically fucking ordered you to tell Reagan about you and boys (and it totally counts if you just hated that she was _right)_ and there was right before you got on the bus (which is _why_ you got on the bus) and there was, definitely, the other night.

When she, you know, saved you.

Which was utter bullshit and totally insane and completely 100% all about Karma and just about the most ridiculous thing she'd ever done. Never to be topped, never to be outdone, the pinnacle, the fucking _zenith_ of Karma being Karma.

Until, you know, _right fucking now._

_He_ wasn't the plan and that was mostly because he was _him_ , but also because you really didn't _have_ a plan. You _never_ have a plan because you _always_ have Karma and _that's_ her job, that's her role, that's her end of the fucking ship.

She plans, you follow. That's how it's always been and that's how you've always _let_ it be because, let's face it, sometimes you do need a little guidance, a little steering. Sometimes, left to your own devices, you do… things.

(Liam Booker or croquembouche or hump day kinds of things.)

Though, you've gotta admit, lately you've needed a little less steering and a little less guiding and you've kinda grown fond of your own devices (and not _just_ the one you won at lesbingo) but you've still let Karma keep at least one hand on the wheel at all times.

And _this_ is what _that_ gets you.

_This_ is you. You in a pretty - if somewhat short - dress (boys like dresses) (short dresses especially.) You in a dress, on a _date,_ with a _boy (_ a boy you plan on kissing at midnight) (kissing _again_ ) (cause you're giving up) (and maybe a little cause you think it will piss Karma off.)

You in a dress on a date with a boy at a party you don't like for a holiday you think is ridiculous (new year) ( _same_ you) with a tradition that ranks among the dumbest of all time (unless there's someone you _want_ to kiss.)

(Your eyes totally _don't_ drift to Sabrina.)

(someone you want to kiss who wants to kiss you back.)

(Your eyes totally _do_ drift away.)

_This_ is you seeing Karma come around the corner in a green dress that's cut down to… well… somewhere you haven't thought about going in quite some time and if she were _alone_ you might be thinking about visiting (and setting up camp) (and maybe moving in) (at least building a summer home) but _that's_ the thing.

She's _not_ alone.

_Fuck._

_This_ is what you get for letting her plan.

"What is _she_ doing here?" you ask (whisper) (hiss) (say loud enough that _everyone_ hears but you only care that _she_ hears and that _all_ she hears is the disdain and anger and disgust.)

(And not, you know, the 'I've really missed you' or the ' _God,_ you look beautiful' or - especially - the 'say something, say _anything,_ just make it _better_ '.)

Whether she hears _that_ or not, Sabrina doesn't say _anything_ and from the look she shoots Karma, you've got a pretty good idea why. She's been coached up, she's been instructed, she's been 'let me handle this'-ed.

Even when it's _not_ about Karma, it's _about_ Karma.

"You've got to be kidding me," you mutter, and you can see it in Karma's eyes that same look she gets when _she_ knows that _you_ know how ridiculous whatever it is she's planning is but she's gonna go through with it anyway.

Never let anyone say Karma isn't committed.

"Karma?" Three heads and six eyes snap over to Felix (and you wonder if _they_ forgot he was there _too_.) "What's going on?"

What's going on, you think, is Karma's ruining the boy's date. She's bringing the ex (the _fake_ ex) girlfriend to the party to… well… to…

To fucked if you know.

"I don't know what you're planning," you say to Karma (and very specifically _ignoring_ Sabrina) ( _and_ … him.) "But… _this?"_ you wave a hand between you and Sabrina, "is not happening. This _happened_ and this is _done."_

Point made. Anger shown. Law laid down and line drawn and you can totally stalk off in an angry huff now.

You _can._ And you _will_. Any second now. Any moment. Any…

_Fuck._

"I don't care what she has to say, Karma," you say, which would have totally been proven by some angry huff stalking but your point is sort of ruined by you still standing there. "Whatever bullshit she's spun to get you to bring her here? Won't work on me. I see who she is now."

Fuck yeah, you do. You see right through her. You see right through those deep brown eyes (full of lies) and that silky dark hair (she probably colors it) and those soft soft lips (that speak falsehoods) and that (probably forked) tongue…

(Yeah. This is definitely one of those hating Karma moments.)

"She lied, Karma. She fucking _lied."_ Yeah she did and the way she flinches at the word just reinforces your point and yeah, score one for you. "A leopard never changes its spots, remember?"

"Technically, a leopard _can't_ change its spots," Felix says.

Such a hating Karma moment.

"I remember," Karma says with a nod. "But maybe _I'm_ not the one who _has_ to."

She steps toward you and takes one of your hands in hers and you're really proud that you don't pull away.

"Maybe _you_ need to remember," Karma says. "What it was like to kiss a girl for all the _wrong_ reasons only…" she pauses and her eyes flick back - just for a second - to Sabrina and you see it, so fucking clear, that Karma still doesn't _like_ her. "Only to find your whole world tipped upside down and even though it _was_ for all the wrong reasons -"

"It was _right,"_ Sabrina says softly and you feel Karma's grip on you tighten, like she's holding on for dear life and there's tears in her eyes, like the night of the wedding or the night at Communal or the day you got on that bus.

And then Karma does what she always does, just when you think you might _actually_ hate her and it might really last and you can't believe how fucking stubborn and selfish she can be.

She lets go.

"Maybe you should remember," she says to you and if there aren't tears in her eyes, they're definitely in her voice. "Remember how familiar that sounds."

She reaches beside you and takes Felix by the hand, leading him out onto the dance floor, leaving you and Sabrina there, alone, or as alone as two people with about a metric ton of crap between them can be. And yeah, it's mostly _her_ crap (lies and secrets and confusions) but maybe there's a little of yours in there too.

Or, you know, more than a little.

She doesn't say anything and you don't say anything and the band plays on in the background and somewhere out there Karma is in Felix's arms (and you're not as sure as you were five minutes ago that that's where she _wants_ to be) and somewhere else out there Lauren and Liam are pretending to be a couple (like _that_ ever ends well.) The universe isn't just a bunch of dicks, it's absolutely insane.

And you've got no idea what it wants anymore cause here _you_ are. Standing with a girl you want to hate but kinda love (it was only four days) (but sometimes it doesn't take more than _one_ ) being shoved together by the girl your world had revolved around for so long, and there's the tiniest flicker of hope in your heart (even if you don't want there to be) and isn't that just like the fucking universe?

It giveth and it taketh away. And then it giveth _again_.

Sabrina holds out a hand to you and you stare at it for a long moment and there's nothing you want more than to take it.

Nothing.

But that would be following your heart. And where does that get you?

Oh. Right. Nowhere.

You walk past her without so much as brushing your fingers against hers and you hear the air rush out of her lungs and _that_ , that gut punch world ending fall to the floor and never get back up feeling?

That you remember.

"Maybe," you say, stopping but not looking back at her. "Maybe I remember and maybe I understand and maybe…" You look back at her, at her hand, still outstretched, waiting for you.

Maybe.

You look back out at the dance floor and you can't see Felix _or_ Karma and maybe _that's_ a sign. And Sabrina is still standing there, heart on her sleeve (if, you know, her dress had any) and hand held out. And maybe _that's_ a sign.

Maybe there all signs, maybe there all the universe's way of trying to show you it's way over complicated and like it was written by a bunch of monkeys at typewriters (or idiot showrunners) not very simple at all plan.

Or maybe the universe is just content to leave you to your own devices.

"You've got five minutes," you tell her before you start walking again (not in a huff, angry or otherwise) and you hear her hustling to keep up and you're _sure_ that you're absolutely _not_ sure what you're doing. Not even a little.

You just know that you're following your heart. And yeah, that's always led you nowhere.

But nowhere is better than here.

Maybe.


	8. Five Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Sabrina have it out on New Year's Eve as Sabrina starts to realize just what Karma may have given her.

Amy gave you five minutes and you've used up about thirty seconds so far without saying a word and you know silence is golden and all that, but the clock is _ticking_.

The clock, _Amy's_ clock, _is_ ticking - it's like a fucking bomb in your head - and you're pretty sure (more than _pretty_ ) that she could have given you five hours or five days or five fucking _lifetimes_ and it wouldn't really matter.

You'd still have no idea what to say.

"What do I _say_?" you asked Karma after she chased you down outside the coffee shop. "What _words_ can possibly… after what I did…"

You shook your head and turned, walking away and accepting your fate and you swear to _God_ , none of it was an act, none of it was a way to make her feel bad or guilty or want to help.

"I don't feel bad, you know," Karma called after you. "There's no guilt _here_ ," she hollered. " _You_ were the one who _lied_ ," she shouted at your back.

She wasn't wrong.

What she _was_ was gasping, when she ran you down at the corner and grabbed your arm and held you in place cause she _clearly_ hadn't been working out of late and said she couldn't chase you anymore and if you wanted her help you had to "stand fucking still for a minute and what the fuck do you do, run track?"

State champ in the 400, two years in a row.

If there's one thing you know, it's _running_.

But you're not running now and neither is Amy, at least not for another… _four minutes_. She's just standing there, just off the dance floor, in a dark corner away from the crowd, away from all the watchful eyes, all those eyes that are pretending _not_ to be watching. All those eyes that were _there_ that night or that have _heard_ about that night or are hoping for a _repeat_ of that night.

You don't give a _fuck_ about those eyes. The only ones you care about are down, on the floor or on her feet or staring at the air between you, anywhere that isn't _you_ and you can't really say that you blame her.

You can't really say much at all.

"There's _nothing_ ," you told Karma while she searched through your closet, trying to find the perfect thing… the exact _right_ dress… and you weren't sure if you were talking about the outfits or what you could possibly say to fix this and - in the end - you kinda figured it didn't matter which.

They were both true.

"I broke her heart and I know I said it didn't _have_ to break and it didn't, but…" You shook your head as she held up a tiny green number you'd bought for a St. Patrick's date with Roy and _no,_ _that_ was _not_ happening. "But it _did_. Whether it had to or not, it _did_ break and _I_ was the one who broke it and there's nothing I can do, nothing I can say -"

She threw a dress at you and told you to try it on and to stop with the "already lost bullshit or I'm going to go home and forget I even know you and… Felix will kiss Amy at midnight and… _neither_ of us wants that, so stop _thinking_ and stop _talking_ and let me _work_."

You did, you let her work and you let her hustle you through three more dresses (" _how the fuck many of these do you_ have?") and a half dozen hairstyles (she was about to call _Lauren_ for advice when she finally found the one she _liked_ ) (the one _Amy_ would) and you let her ramble on and on and _on_ about how to handle it and how to talk to Amy and what you should say and then she...

"She gave me a speech."

Well… _fuck_. Three minutes left on the clock and _that's_ what your brain and your mouth and the apparently very little connection between them, manage to come up with.

She gave me a speech.

_Karma_ gave me a speech.

Well… _fuck_. ( _Again_.) Fucking head and fucking brain and fucking mouth not being smart enough to stay shut (ticking clock or _not_ ) and fucking Karma for… well… for _a lot_ but mostly for being _Karma_ and if you don't curse _her_ then really all you've got left is cursing _yourself_ and you've done about all of that you can handle the last few days.

And if anyone should be cursing you, it's Amy and she's _not_ , so…

Then again, she's not doing or saying much of anything except, probably, counting down your last few minutes.

"That was probably a dumb thing to say," you say and _for fuck's sake_ why does the universe continue to allow you to _speak_? But, hey, Amy's staring at _you_ now instead of the floor or the air so, there's _that_ at least. And she's still not saying _anything_ but her eyes say pretty much _everything_ and yeah…

Dumb.

"Karma gave me a speech to say," _you_ say - in case there was any confusion as to who 'she' was… and cause _what the fuck_ , let's face it, you're _already_ doomed. "She thought a grand gesture would do the trick."

_You need a grand gesture_ , she said. _You need something big, something memorable, something that will wipe the memory of…_ him… _and_ you _and all…_ that… _right out of her mind forever._

You nodded and agreed and went along with it cause… well… it wasn't like you had any _better_ ideas… even if you were pretty sure there was _nothing_ on Earth or the seven kingdoms that was going to bleach all _that_ from Amy's mind any time soon.

If ever.

"She worked up this whole speech for me to give," you say. "From the stage, in front of _everyone_."

Amy still doesn't _speak_ but her eyes roll just enough, in that 'yeah, that sounds like _her_ ' kinda way that you can almost feel the ice starting to crack - just a bit, just a tiny little sliver of a thing, just the _start_ (but a _start_ isn't an _end_ ) - and maybe, you think ( _hope_ ), maybe you're not _quite_ doomed.

Doomed adjacent, maybe.

You keep talking because _she's_ not and the clock's still ticking and you don't really know what else to do (you _do_ though) (but you're pretty sure kissing her is _not_ the best plan) (long term, at least) (short term it's fucking _awesome_.) "She had an entire plan, really," you say and maybe it's been years since you all really hung out but you remember enough of the stories Amy used to tell to know that Karma plus a plan equals not a fucking shock. "She thought maybe if I got up there and… basically… outed myself… if I made a big public spectacle of the whole thing…"

Amy's eyes grow dark and you know she's thinking the same thing you did, that the same objection is running through her mind as the one you actually voiced to Karma.

"Don't you think maybe this has all been a little _too_ public, already?"

Karma looked at you like you'd grown a second head (one that _didn't_ lie), as if you'd just suggested the Earth was flat and Shane was straight and maybe Liam and Lauren's… thing… wasn't quite as fake as she thought.

"Yeah," you say quietly, your eyes drifting to the floor in front of Amy, like you can't look at her anymore, like it's staring too long into the sun. "I didn't think it was such a great plan, either."

"But," Amy says and you look back up, shocked to hear her, that she's decided to stop going all Ariel and find her voice. "You were going to do it anyway. Lousy plan or not."

You start to shake your head, like no, no, no, I wasn't, and then you start to nod, sheepishly, like yeah, I was gonna, but then you just shrug because the truth (and _that's_ kinda a big deal here) is you don't _know_ what you were going to do.

"I don't really know," you say and that _is_ the truth, not just some 'let me walk the line between yes and no so my ass is covered' bit of bullshit. "I don't even… I remember being in my room and then in _hers_ and then we were coming here and she was… coaching me up and… I heard it all, you know? But it wasn't…"

It wasn't _you_. And, in the end, you'd like to think _that_ would have won out, that _that_ would've been enough to keep you off that stage and for you to end up right _here_ , in a corner away from it all with _just_ you and _just_ her and even if you only had five minutes or five _seconds_ , they'd have been _yours_.

And not Karma's.

"It was a _good_ speech," you say and you know you're out of time but Amy doesn't seem to be leaving and sooner or later (hopefully _sooner_ ) you know ( _hope_ ) you're going to stumble into what _you_ want to say "All about how yeah, I lied at the beginning… which I _did_ and honesty being the best policy and all that…."

She's just standing there, arms crossed and expression neutral and you don't know if she's listening or just stalling, just giving you enough time to get it all out before she leaves, before she walks _away_ and leaves you there _alone_ and you're not sure you'd blame her if she did.

No, you're _sure_. You _wouldn't_. You _couldn't_.

"But the lies…" you say, remembering that part of the speech, the part Karma went over and over and over as she stared out your bedroom window while you finished your hair. " _She_ said I should say that the lies were because I was scared. Because I couldn't face the truth."

Amy says nothing - still - but neutral starts to slip into… something else and you know enough about… _them_ … and everything that went down between them that you've kinda got an idea what that _else_ might be.

And you're starting to understand just how much Karma _gave_ you that speech.

"She wanted me to say that I lied because it was easier. It was easier to pretend to myself that I was faking it, to hide my own truth behind the lie that wasn't…," you trail off, running over the words in your head. They were _good_ words, _heartfelt_ words, and… sorta… _true_ words.

Sorta true for _you_.

And, you're starting to realize, probably a bit more than sorta for _her_.

You watch Amy carefully, looking for any sign, any… _anything_ … but her face is a mask and her words are still just _hers_ and the only thing you've got going for you is that clock in your head.

Five minutes is long since gone. But Amy's not.

"She said to say It was the kiss," you say, remembering how very _specific_ Karma was about that part. "The kiss was a… _realization."_

It _was_. It _so_ was.

_That_ hits home with Amy and you can see it on her face and in her eyes. She knows all about revelatory kisses, all about what it's like to feel _that_ , to get _lost_ in someone's arms and someone's lips only to _find_ yourself there.

Even if the you that you find isn't the you that you know.

But that wasn't what Karma wanted you to say, how she wanted you to describe it. She didn't say 'realization' or 'discovery' or 'moment of truth' or 'epiphany'.

_It was your moment_ , Karma said. _Your… 'woah'... moment. When you kissed her, your whole world changed and your every lie became truth and…_

And?

And _you're_ watching Amy and _you're_ seeing her playing it all over in her head, watching every moment go by in super slo-mo except… except that you're not really sure they're _your_ moments.

They're _hers_.

Karma called it the 'woah' moment and that's kinda accurate for you, but it's starting to sink in, for you at least, as you watch Amy that she (Karma) wasn't just talking about _Amy_ and what _Amy_ had told her and how _Amy_ had described what that moment ( _their_ moment) did for her.

"It changed everything," Karma said to you on your way here. "Like the walls just came crumbling down," she said. "And suddenly every direction was open to you and everything just made… sense."

You nodded and tried, so very hard, to remember it all, like there was going to be a quiz or a test, and - you supposed - there kinda was.

"You were… happy… no… not _happy_ ," she said and there was confusion all over your face but you don't think she ever saw it. "Happy is too simple, too _easy_. You were… _free_. Free of everything you'd ever thought you had to be or do or…" She drummed her fingers along the armrest and let out a slow breath. "She _freed_ you. She gave you a way to a whole different life."

One you were too scared to take, she said. At first, she _stressed_. But now…

She was quiet for a moment, staring out the window while you parked the car. "But now you're ready," she said as she slipped from the car and you might have been the track star but you had to hurry - had to race - to catch up to her.

And it occurs to you that maybe you still haven't.

You wanted to push Karma out, you wanted to make her _move_. Maybe you didn't want her gone (but you wouldn't have minded) but you wanted her to make… room. You wanted space, you wanted a spot that you could fill in Amy's life, one that Karma didn't think was hers.

You thought such a spot existed.

Maybe you thought wrong.

The speech. The grand gesture. Choosing a dress and fixing your hair and driving you here and chasing you down no matter how many times you tried to run.

_Fuck all_.

You didn't push Karma out.

She jumped.

"Is that it?" Amy asks and suddenly you're _back_ , back in the room, back in that dark corner, back in the moment and skirting right along the edge of letting it pass you by. "If that's all you've got to say, I -"

"I didn't want to kiss you," you say, cutting Amy off and this time, _there's_ a reaction, _there's_ something _new_ flitting across her face cause of all the things you could have said…

Even you didn't see that one coming.

"I didn't," you repeat, just for emphasis (partly for _you_.) "I didn't plan on it, not even after your speech, which _really_ was _awesome_ by the way, I didn't… _intend_ to kiss you. Because I didn't want to hurt you, I never...:"

You see it then, the tiny little eye roll, the 'here we go again' twitch to her expression and yeah, here you _do_ go again cause, really, can you get any more fucking _trope_ than 'I never meant to hurt you…'?

No, you can't. But you're flying a little blind here cause you can't use Karma's speech cause… well… it's _hers_. And that's how she'd do it, if she _could_ , but she _can't_ but you _can_ but if you're going to do it?

_You're_ going to do it.

"I didn't want to kiss you and I didn't mean to kiss you because I didn't know what I was feeling, and that would… _was_ … wrong and unfair of me," you say. "And I'll always be sorry that I was so selfish in that moment but… I just… I couldn't _not_ kiss you."

There's another reaction, another… something… crossing her face but it fades (or she pushes it away) as fast as it appears, but you _saw_.

"It was like something took me over, like I had no control, no matter how crazy and insane it was, I _had_ to." _That_ you think she understands, that sense of not having a choice of having to do it, right or wrong, ecstasy or never ending pain.

"You had to," she says, "because you saw Karma. Because you had to do what she never would."

It's there, you can hear it, the slight (so _fucking_ slight) (but _there_ ) hope in her voice. The near desperate… _need_ … for you to tell her she's wrong and to make her _believe_ it.

And you know you could. You could tell her the truth you know she deserves to hear, the one that would push her away for good. That it wasn't a matter of 'never would'. It was all 'never _could_.'

But that's not your truth to tell and maybe it's selfish and maybe you'll regret it, someday, but this _isn't_ someday and Karma…

She made her choice.

"I did," you say. "I did see her and… I… I _wanted_ it to be about Karma." There's _another_ reaction then. Amy flinches. She visibly fucking _flinches_ and _you_ feel it all the way through you, like a knife. "I spent the rest of that night _praying_ that it was about her, about her and Felix and pushing _them_ out and pissing _her_ off."

In a lot of ways, you realize now, it would have been so much easier. It would have been so much easier to be the devil she thought you were.

"I was even going to tell you," you say and you can see the 'yeah, right' and the 'yeah, of _course_ you were' and 'how dumb do you think I am' written all over Amy's face. "I came to your house and I _did_ tell you, at least that there was something…"

You watch as it rolls over her, as _fuck no_ shifts to _maybe_ shifts to _memory_ _._

_I do want to kiss you right now. More than… well… more than I… but there's something I have to tell you first. Something you need to know._

She remembers. And maybe - just _maybe_ \- she believes.

"I wish I'd… that I'd had the courage to tell you then and to not kiss you again, not like _that_ ," you say. "Because I know, _now_ , that no matter how fondly I will always remember every one of those kisses, they'll always be… tainted… for you. And that _kills_ me."

There's a moment, a split second, when you think… _feel_ … like she's going to move, like she's going to take your hand in hers and whisper that they're not _all_ tainted and maybe, just _maybe_ , you could do something about replacing them, about pushing _those_ kisses out of her mind forever.

But then that moment… evaporates… and you're left where you were and she's where she was and there's still an ocean of air and space and _fuck ups_ between you. Because you know _memory_ has shifted again, changed to _pain_ and changed to _I wish that too but you didn't and they are and now, in the end?_

In the end, you still hurt her, you still broke her heart. But, in the end?

She's still here.

"If I gave you that speech," you say, "I'd tell you it was the kiss that made me see it, the kiss that made me understand what I'd been feeling since I was twelve years old, since the day we met."

There's something in Amy's eyes and you know _that_ part of Karma's speech would've hit home and someday, in the distant future, when Amy tells you all about her jailhouse speech, you'll know why.

"But," you say, cause it's _you_ (not Karma) (not some weird combination of you both) that has to say whatever it will be that fixes Amy's heart, "I'm trying not to lie."

You wait, hesitate, just for a beat. Expecting her to run. Grateful when she doesn't.

"I don't _know_ if I was in love with you then," you say. "I was _twelve_. And as much as… she… might have wanted _our_ story to be _that_ story, to be that perfect ending, that romantic finale to end all finales…" You shake your head and wish, not for the first time, that you could still just fucking _lie_. "That's not _us_."

"It isn't?" Amy asks and you try - so very hard - to not do a victory fucking jig that she didn't drop a 'there is no us' on you.

"No," you tell her. "In her head, in her… _world_ … that's what matters. The grand gesture, the moving confession, the Hollywood scripted moment." You reach out, suddenly unafraid (cause what have you got to _lose_?) and take Amy's hand. "And that's a great world and a wonderful one and _God,_ I wish we all could live there."

"Not so sure I'd like someone else writing my life," Amy says but you only half hear her cause you're a little busy focusing on how she's _not_ pulling her hand away. "I'd probably end up realizing I was only into dudes or pining endlessly or fucking… shot."

"Good for you that you're the writer then," you say and she smiles ( _smiles_ ) at you. "You're _your_ writer and I'm _mine_ and my script… it isn't so clear, you know? I don't know what I felt back then and even if I did, it wouldn't make what I did better and it wouldn't change that I will _never_ stop being sorry for hurting you, and that I'll _never_ be able to _be_ sorry for… for those kisses or for those four days or for…"

You don't fight the tears, you don't even try to blink them back and they come, like the fucking rapids, but that's OK.

They can't stop until they start.

You lace your fingers with hers and Amy still doesn't pull away and the words… they come like the tears. "I love you," you say and it's like a weight being cut loose, like air rushing into your lungs after almost drowning, and you have to repeat them, you _have_ to say it again. "I love _you_ , Amy Raudenfeld, and not because of Karma and not because I need a friend and not because someone else has something I want."

You're starting to understand what Karma meant by free.

You stare at your hands, at where _you_ join _her_ because if this _is_ the end, you want to remember that, you want it burned into your mind, sunk into your memory like an anchor.

"I know you might not believe me," you say, "but I hope someday you can. Even if we're not… I just hope you can know that everything I felt, every bit of love and every bit of hope and every bit of fear… everything that gave me… _life_ … for those four days… it was _always_ about _you_."

Amy's hand twitches in yours and you _hear_ the shudder as she breathes and it's just more… more for you to remember, more for you to hold to when she's gone, more of _her_.

Like more would ever be _enough_.

"Is that it?" she asks and it's all you can do to stay standing. "Is that all you have to say?"

You nod and it hurts - it physically fucking _hurts_ you - to let go of her hand, to open your fingers and slip them from hers.

Or, really, it _would_.

If she'd let you.

"I wish," Amy says.

Her voice is _so_ soft, but then she doesn't have to be loud because she's _right there_ , she's crossed that ocean of… _stuff_ … and she's there, with your hand in hers and her other hand on your cheek and you don't dare breathe cause then you might wake up.

"I wish I'd let you say all that that night," she says. "Cause let me tell you, the last week has _sucked_." She smiles at you - again - and almost laughs at the look on your face, at the confusion and the uncertainty and the 'is this fucking _real_ ' of it all.

She leans in and presses one soft kiss to your lips, one that wipes the memory of so many others that might have been hotter and longer and more desperate and passionate.

But so much less… _perfect_.

And somewhere in the background you can hear them all counting it down, so many voices ringing _out_ one year and ringing in _another_ and you pull Amy close and your arms slip around her waist and hers around your neck and when all those other voices hit _Happy New Year_ hers mumbles 'I love you, too' against your lips.

And maybe Karma's not wrong to believe in happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this right after watching the latest episode. Everyone knows I was a bit of a Reamy shipper (cough JFM cough) but even I know they screwed Reagan’s character up and messed up what could have been a really good triangle. And now, Sabrina… I wasn’t going to post this because I get that a lot of people don’t like her. But someone sent me this post from Surrealist Punk and (when I got done nodding in agreement), I figured maybe this was worth posting after all. It’s the start of how they could not manage to mess up another new character. If you like it and want more (cause for once I know where it’s going), let me know.


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